


Between Friends

by Letzi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental pornstars, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Crack, DeanCas Tropefest, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Pining, Sam Ships It, Top Castiel, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 19:39:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12092022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letzi/pseuds/Letzi
Summary: After Dean averted another Apocalypse with Amara, things have gotten back to normal at the bunker. Or, almost normal, if not for the fact that Cas is fully human again, now. Apparently, it’s permanent. What strikes Dean as odd, though, is the fact that Cas spends his days locked up in his room, and, somehow he manages to make money out of… something. Dean makes it his mission to find out what it is. What if it’s illegal? He can’t let Cas get into trouble for money. He sure as hell isn’t expecting the truth to be so crude, and Cas to be so casual about it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the Dean/Cas Tropefest 2017!
> 
> A big thank you to the mods for their organization, to Rosac, my fabulous artist, and to Lisa, for beta'ing in record time and putting up with my shit x) 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy my little story. See you at the end ;)

##   

It takes only two months of Cas being human before things get strange.

Dean can’t say that he’s surprised, honestly, but he didn’t think things would change so quickly. Now he’s worried, and he doesn’t know how to go to Cas with his concerns. So, obviously, he starts to get anxious about it, and Sam notices. _Of course he does_.

“Okay, what’s up,” he asks one day, exasperated, as Dean is cleaning the kitchen for the third time this month.

“What,” Dean barks back.

He knows what’s coming, but he’s not sure he’s ready to talk about it just yet. If Sam hasn’t noticed anything, it could mean that Dean’s being paranoid again. Which often tends to happen when it comes to Cas. But what can Dean say? Cas is like his second brother, and it’s in Dean’s nature to worry about his family. So, sue him.

Sam lets out a long suffering sigh. He knows that Dean knows what he means. Hence his bitchy tone when he answers, “You’ve been antsy for days. The bunker is so clean I can see my reflection in the leather seats. What’s wrong?”

Dean knows he won’t let go. Might as well be honest, this time. He puts down the rag he was swiping the counter with. “I’m worried about Cas.” 

Sam scoffs, “When aren’t you?”

“No,” Dean answers, suddenly nervous. “This time it’s different.” He worries his lower lip between his teeth, searching for his words. Sam is just staring, one eyebrow raised. Bitchface number seventy-two or whatever. _Just get it out already!_ “He’s… he has money,” Dean lets out.

“Okay…”

“I mean, he’s been fully human for, what? Nearly two months?” Dean shrugs, “It seems pretty strange to me that Cas, Castiel ‘How do you pee without missing the bowl’, Angel of the Lord has managed to find a job and earn enough to buy a friggin’ flat screen TV in only six weeks!” 

As an answer, Sam pouts, humming vaguely. “I guess it’s a bit strange, but… it’s nothing bad, at least. You’re not gonna get on his ass because he found a job.”

“What job? He barely gets out of his room, let alone outside the bunker…” Dean almost feels his eyes trying to escape their socket as he tries to show Sam that _something’s wrong_ , “What does he _do_?”

Sam’s shoulders lift, slowly, like he wants to shrug but isn’t sure it’s the right emotion to feel. “Telemarketing?”

Dean just throws his bitchface right back at him.

“I don’t know,” Sam lets out, exasperated. “Just talk to him!”

Dean can recognize when Sam’s had enough, so he doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t tell Sam it’s not that easy, and he especially doesn’t tell him that he’s scared Cas will start drawing away from him if he pries too much. Because that would be sharing. Dean doesn’t do that. Ever. Especially not with Sam.

“Fine,” he says after a beat. “I’ll ask him. But it don’t smell too kosher to me, I’m telling you!”

Sam waves at him, already focused on his laptop like Dean never said anything in the first place.

“Whatever,” Dean mutters.

He’ll handle this himself. Sam is fucking oblivious to everything when it comes to Cas, anyway.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“Just… fucking knock and open the door, it’s not that complicated,” Dean breathes to himself.

The thing is, standing there in front of Cas’s door, he’s not sure what he’s going to find, and he’s a bit scared he won’t be able to handle it.

He’s never been to Cas’s room. And it’s not that weird, seeing as nobody comes into his, and nobody goes into Sam’s. Everybody respects everyone else’s privacy. That’s how a good cohabitation works. Right?

It takes him another few seconds to build the courage, but he finally knocks, and waits. No answer.

“Cas?” Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, anxiety sucking at his guts, he knocks again. “Cas!”

A grunt answers him, sending his heart into overdrive. _Shit_. What is Cas doing in there?

“It’s, uh, me, Cas. Dean.” He scratches the back of his head, wondering how it all came to this, “Can I come in?”

Another grunt and the high-pitched whine of bedsprings makes heat color his face. He shouldn’t have come. He should’ve waited until Cas chose to come out there by himself, _Goddammit_!

Dean’s not one to back down from a challenge, he never has been, but this time all his instincts scream at him to just get the fuck out of dodge. He’s listening to them, right now.

Unfortunately, as he turns on his heels, the hinges of Cas’s door creak ominously as it opens.

No choice but to face the uncomfortable truth, now. All Dean can think about as he turns to Cas is how much he doesn’t want to find out what he just interrupted.

Cas is leaning against the doorframe like he can’t even figure out how he got up, glaring daggers at Dean. There’s the imprint of a pillow on his cheek. _Thank God!_ He was sleeping. _Just sleeping_.

_He wasn’t totally jerking it off in there. Nope. He wasn’t, he was not polishing his helmet, he wasn’t flogging the—_

“What,” Cas grunts, eyes barely opened, his hair defying the laws of physics as he runs a hand through them.

 “Uh,” Dean answers, not stupidly at all. “Hi.”

“What do you want?”

_Fuck_. “I—it’s a bad time. Sorry. I wanted to talk.” Obviously, Cas was going to keep glaring, hearing that. “It’s… listen, man. I was worried. You never leave your room, I didn’t know what you were doing in there, so—”

“I was sleeping.”

Dean wants to rolls his eyes because, how he could he have known that? At two in the afternoon?

“Yeah, I can see that _now_ —”

“And I’d like to go back to it, if you don’t mind.”

There’s a finality to his voice that stops Dean’s brain from trying to find the perfect reason to drag Cas out of his bed and into the kitchen. Instead, he sighs. “Okay, but… when you get up,” and Cas frowns at that, “for real. Would be nice to see you out here, you know? With us?”

For a second there, as Cas is staring at him with this intense, soul-searching way of his, Dean thinks he’s going to get punched right in the nose. But it doesn’t happen. Instead, Cas closes the door in his face.

“Well,” Dean tells the door, defeated, “good talk.”

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

It takes four hours for Cas to come shuffling into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and looking as grumpy as ever.

“Look who decided to show up,” Dean deadpans.

Sam, always the gentleman, barely looks up from his episode of _Vikings_ , giving Cas a small, warm smile like nothing’s wrong. Then, without another word, he hauls his laptop with one hand, grabs his coffee with the other and hurries out of the room.

Meanwhile, Cas ignores Dean, going straight for the coffee machine. Dean, from his seat at the kitchen table, leans back, and takes the time to watch him. He knows it’s been hard for him. After the stunt he pulled with Lucifer, and the whole mess with Amara and Chuck, losing his Grace hit him hard.

Ever since he started having human needs again, Cas has been slowly but surely withdrawing from Dean and Sam, and Dean wonders if he could’ve done something about it. If he can still do something about it.

“So, Cas, Buddy,” he starts, licking his lips. “What’s up? How’s it hangin’?”

Obviously, Cas doesn’t answer right away. _Right_. _Wait for the first few sips of coffee, you idiot_ , Dean chastises himself. Which he does. Patiently. Very patiently. For about twenty seconds, until Cas is leaning against the kitchen counter, nose in his mug and eyes closed like he just saw God.

“Seriously, Cas, man… you can’t just shut yourself off like that. It’s not healthy.”

If looks could kill, Dean would be dead right now.

He tries for an appeasing smile. “Come on, talk to me.”

Cas sighs. Finally, a sign of life! “Are you about to tell me you have a terminal illness?” Cas looks blearily at him, “Because if so, I would like to finish my coffee first. I’m not awake enough for this.”

Dean gapes at him, brain stuttering to a halt trying to process what Cas just said. “W-what?”

“You never talk, Dean,” Cas answers, giving him a dubious look from above the rim of his mug. “So I have to assume, either you’re dying, or something’s really wrong.” He shrugs, “Maybe _I’m_ dying.” And Dean opens his mouth at that, but Cas raises a finger in the air, silently asking for more time. “In any case, I just woke up, so please, if you have something to say, don’t beat around the bush and just get it out.”

Okay. Dean has no good answer to that. Castiel, Angel of the Lord, Master of Sass! Who’d have thunk it?

“Right,” he breathes out. “I’m just worried about you, okay? And I told Sam about it, so he told me to talk to you, except you never come out of your man cave, so what was I supposed to do?”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Cas says, exasperated, before bee-lining for the door.

Dean catches him by the elbow as he passes him. “Wait, wait, wait!” And Cas gives him a long-suffering glare, but lets himself be guided by Dean’s hand to the seat opposite Dean.

Dean waits until Cas falls heavily onto the seat before going on, “I know that-- I mean, I don’t know how you feel, right now, okay?” He hopes his tone of voice carries how earnest he is about this. “Your juice is gone, and I get it, man, I at least get how difficult it must be for you, and I’m, I’m here, okay? If you need anything.”

Cas’s expression softens at that. “I’m fine, Dean. I swear.”

“Are you, really?” Cas rolls his eyes. “It’s just… I see you buy some expensive crap and… I mean, I hope you’re not getting into some illegal shit just to get by, because you know Sam and me, we can help, alright? You don’t have to—”

“Dean, stop.”

“—do anything you don’t want to just to get some cash—”

“Dean.”

“—you know? I don’t want you going through some, some weird, mafia sex shenanigans because we were too chicken shit to help—”

“Dean!”

“Yeah?” Cas’s expression of grave consternation has Dean smile a little. “Too much?”

“I’m not a child,” Cas answers, piercing him with the force of his gaze. “I’m not doing anything illegal, if you should know. And I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

Dean’s eyes quickly drop drown for a second. “I know, Cas,” he sighs. “I just… I miss you, man. And I don’t know what to do to… help.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Then maybe you need to let me be here for you,” Dean says. He tries to gauge Cas’s reaction, but it’s hard to tell what’s going on in that otherworldly head of his. “Even if it’s just to talk or, or watch some crap TV, or have a beer. Just don’t shut us off.”

It feels strange to put it out there, just like that, but it also feels right. So Dean waits, gazing into Cas’s eyes, searching, looking for a sign that would tell him he said the right thing. Except nothing comes. Nothing’s changed on Cas’s face, beside the fact that his grumpy frown disappeared.

That’s when Dean starts feeling uncomfortable. Lucky for him, Cas decides to talk before he can make a fool of himself. “If this is what I get when I buy a TV,” he says, slowly, a smug smile tugging at his lips, “I don’t even want to imagine what you’ll do when I buy myself a car.”

Dean huffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “Shuddup.”

“I’ll just go back to my room, and think about what you said,” Cas goes on, standing with his mug in hand, and Dean grunts. “I’ll get back to you.”

“You’re an asshole,” Dean mutters.

Cas just waves at him, his back already to him. If this is what Dean gets for opening up, he sure as shit won’t try again. Not ever.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Not trying again doesn’t mean that Dean at least doesn’t try to figure out what the hell Cas is doing. He tries searching through his internet history on Sam’s old laptop that they gave him when he asked for distractions. He tries snooping in Cas’s room when Cas is showering. He tries asking questions. He tries listening through the door when Cas stays cooped up for more than a day.

Nothing turns up. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. Bumpkiss. Diddly-squat.

Only thing he figures out is, it’s something Cas does at night, since he sleeps most of the day, and it involves his computer.

And, okay, Dean has ideas about what it could be, but he refuses to think that someone as innocent and naïve as Cas would… nuh uh, not going there. Nope.  

But what else could it be?

He decides to just let it go for now and just have a nice quiet Sunday. Plus, he’s in a pretty good mood since he and Sam followed up on a lead that looks like just their kind of thing.

Had Dean known, when Cas walked into the library, his morning frown even more pronounced than usual, that the way he looks at the world was going to change forever, he wouldn’t have gotten out of bed.  

He eyes Cas as the angel sits next to Sam, playing with the inches of sleeve that cover his hands. Dean’s not used to seeing him wearing pajamas, not yet, so he looks away, for fear he’ll keep staring if he doesn’t.  

Beside that fact, Cas has been trying to be more open with them ever since he and Dean talked. It’s a good thing, at least, but Dean learned not to push it. Sam says Cas needs to work things out in his own time, and, for once, Dean agrees.

So Dean goes back to his web search, following a link about flower fairies. _The little fuckers_. A wall of text appears on screen, and he tries to focus. But Cas is clearing his throat, and Dean’s eyes drift to him. He’s about to talk. Might be important.

“Sam,” Cas says, and Dean promptly looks back at his screen. “I would like to have a word with Dean, if you don’t mind.”

“Uh,” Sam lets out, blinking up from his own laptop. “Huh, sure. Yeah.”

Cas just stares at him. And stares. Dean looks between the two, wondering when Sam is going to get it.

“Alone,” Cas adds, eyebrows raising.

“Oh!” Sam almost jumps. He fumbles with his laptop, probably trying to close his tabs or something, and finally slams it closed, cheeks getting red. “Yes. Sorry, I, uh, was somewhere else.” Gathering his books and notes, he smiles at Cas, apologetically. “Sorry. I’m going.”

Cas huffs, “You’re fine.”

His eyes follow Sam, though, carefully, and he doesn’t speak until he’s sure Sam is out of hearing range.

“You said I could come to you if I needed help,” Cas says. The creepy fucker keeps staring at the doorway Sam disappeared through until his sentence is over before his gaze finally comes back to Dean. “Is it still true?”

Dean blinks at him. “Uh, of course. Yeah. Whatever you need, man.”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Okay…”

“It has to do with what I do for a living,” Cas goes on, ignoring the way Dean’s eyebrows are trying to fly off his face.

“Oh.” Dean scoots closer to the edge of his seat. “Right.”

“So you have to promise me you won’t freak out and you’ll listen to me until I’m done.” Cas’s eyes are like two lasers, ready to shoot their beam at Dean. Of course, Dean’s not going to contradict him. “Are we clear?”

Dean nods. “Crystal.”

And, yeah, okay, Dean’s not going to say anything else, and he’s not going to start fidgeting like a child, but impatience is taking over as he licks his lips, getting ready to hear it all. Finally, he’s going to _know_.

Cas shifts in his seat. He folds his hands together, stares straight into Dean’s eyes. “I film myself while I masturbate and people pay me to watch.”

And just like that, with one sentence, Dean’s world rocks off its axis. His jaw seems to slip from its socket and falls open. He tries to talk, mouth moving without his consent, but no sounds come out.

“I’m not finished,” Cas goes on, frowning. “Sometimes, my audience makes suggestions. Some of those people give a lot just to see me fulfill their fantasies, so I indulge them. It doesn’t happen often, but I do.” He sighs, “But two nights ago, one of them asked for a particular position that I’m not even going to try to describe to you. Let’s just say I should’ve stretched before I tried it.”

Dean keeps staring. His mouth won’t close anymore. He’s stuck like this. Cas said the word _‘masturbate’_ and Dean’s going to die with his mouth open because something broke in him hearing the word coming out of an actual _angel_.

“I pulled a muscle in my thigh,” Cas says, rolling his right sleeve up. There’s a bandage around his wrist, “and I hurt my hand.” His head tilts on the side, probably because he’s starting to wonder what’s up with Dean. “I can’t do what I usually do anymore. People are starting to ask questions. The income is comfortable, and I don’t want to lose my audience, so I need help.”

_He said ‘masturbate’. He said ‘masturbate’ like I could’ve said ‘make pancakes’. What’s happening?_

“Dean?”

“Uh.”

“I’m done.” Cas raises an eyebrow at him. “It’s your turn to talk, now.”

Mouth still open, Dean blinks a few times before forcing his jaw shut. _Okay, breathe_. “I, uh.” He wipes his face with the flat of his hand. “Jesus, Cas, you can’t just… spring that on me and expect—Jesus Christ!”

He needs to move. Now. He needs to do something other than sit here and look at Cas because he’s starting to get some weird images of him doing stuff in front of a webcam and that shit won’t fly. This is so not something he would have ever imagined. And now he’s forced to.

Springing from his seat, he looks up. His chair falls back and crashes on the floor with a bang. He doesn’t care. He’s just trying to fill his lungs with air, for now. _Holy shit!_

“I knew you weren’t going to take it without an argument,” Cas says, squinting, “but I didn’t think it’d be this bad.”

“You didn’t th—seriously?!” Dean scrubs at his face again, he doesn’t even know what his body is doing anymore. “Cas! You’re telling me you, you show your dick to people, to get money! How’m I s’ppose to react? My _God_!” Because there’s nothing else to do, he starts pacing. “What did you think I was gonna say?!”

“A lot of people do it, it’s not that bad,” Cas argues.

If his eyeballs were swelling right now, Dean wouldn’t even be surprised. “It’s n--, it’s not that bad?”

“Are you going to repeat everything I’m saying?”

“Not that bad?! Cas, You’re an _angel_!”

Cas’s stare is perfectly calm, verging on judgmental, “Not anymore. And even if I was, I don’t see what it has to do with the situation.”

“You don’t see—” _Okay, yeah_ , he’s repeating everything Cas is saying, so he shuts his trap, closes his eyes, and inhales, trying to focus. Exhaling, he opens his eyes. “Okay. Okay.” He eyes his chair, picks it up, and drops his ass on it. “Okay. I, huh.” Another swipe of hand on his mouth before he’s ready to tackle this. “You, uh, sell your… your charms. On the internet. Alright.”

“That’s one way to put it, yes,” Cas agrees.

“And you pulled a muscle m—masturbating.”

“Yes.”

“And you want me to…” _Shit_. Embarrassment takes the shape of a gigantic wave of heat that comes crashing up to his face. “Help. To help you. Masturbate. Right?”

Cas cocks his head on the side, mouth pinching into a thin line. “Right.” His eyes roam over Dean’s face. He’s trying not to laugh.

Dean’s forehead hits the table in a gesture of desperation before he can even think of holding it back, and he grunts as it bounces on the polished wood. “I can’t believe it,” he whispers. Then he pushes himself up. He’s pretty sure there’s a bright red spot on his forehead now. “Why me?”

“I could ask Sam,” Cas sighs, as if miffed.

“Please, don’t.”

“But I’d rather it be you, if that’s ok.”

It’s a tough one. Definitely a very, extremely, vastly, tremendously hard one. No pun intended. Or, yeah, well, maybe, pun intended a little, but the situation is so out of the realms of everything Dean could’ve imagined that he has to laugh about it a little.

He huffs. “I just…” he trails off, finally staring into Cas’s eyes. “Man, this is crazy.”

Cas’s face relaxes a little. He smiles, “Not at all. It’s just sex, Dean. Nothing too complicated about it.”

“Sounds so easy when you put it that way,” Dean answers. He’s shaking his head. He stops. “If I do this…” He can’t believe he’s about to say this. “I don’t want people to recognize me.”

“It’s okay, you can wear a mask,” Cas says. “Or you can just make sure we only see you from the chest down. It’s very common. You won’t even need to undress.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I just need your hands. So to speak.”

“Fuck,” Dean exclaims.

Is he really going to do this? He thinks he is. Truth is, he noticed how good Cas looks. He’s not blind. And he toyed with the idea of male on male sex before, even fantasize about it, put a finger up his ass once or twice, so yeah. Not what scares him the most. Even if he’s slightly scared of dicks, other than his own, what he’s scared of the most in this moment is Cas’s dick. His friend’s dick.

What if something happens, what if it doesn’t work, what then? Could they go back to the way things were?

He sighs, and gives Cas a pleading look. “And you need me when? Can I think about it?”

“It’s fairly urgent,” Cas says, mouth twisting in an apologetic frown. “I’d like to start tonight, if you feel ready for it.”

Saliva gets stuck in Dean’s throat as he swallows, and he coughs. More out of surprise than anything else. “To—tonight?!”

“Yes.”

“Oh, God…”

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” Cas goes on, as he reaches for Dean’s hand. “We’ll split the profits, obviously. If you do half the work, it’s normal that you get half the reward.”

“Jesus…”

It’s not like they don’t know each other, after all. Granted, Dean’s never heard the noises Cas makes during sex, but he’s seen him near death, he’s seen him depressed, he’s seen him happy. They know each other, inside and out, so to speak, so sex should only be like another step in their relationship.

Dean lets out a decisive breath, “Okay.”

Cas’s eyebrows rise up, almost imperceptibly, and Dean thinks he can detect the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Sure,” Dean grins, even though he doesn’t feel the confidence he’s trying to exude. “Why not?”

The smile Cas gives him, a rare and welcomed sight, would almost be worth the anxiety.


	2. Chapter 2

“Are you ready?” Cas asks, sitting cross-legged on his bed in nothing but his boxer shorts –black--  and a very tight, clearly two-sizes too small wife-beater --white, and see through, of course.

Dean has been trying to hide his anxiety for the last hour, almost dropping the mask of cockiness he chose to adopt when Cas locked the door. But he’s good now. He thinks.

“Uh, yeah. Let’s do this.”

Clasping his hands together, he drops his ass on the bed.

“You should take off a layer or two,” Cas advises, eyes on his screen.

He logs into the cam website, setting up his session, and Dean can do nothing but stare. “Hm. Okay.”

Looking down on himself, he pulls at the collar of his plaid shirt, wondering what layers are considered ‘too much’.

After a few seconds, Cas comes to his rescue. “You should just get down to your t-shirt and your jeans. Though you’d be more comfortable in your underwear, but it’s up to you.”

Dean exhales. He tries to laugh it off. “And your fans would like it better, I guess.”

“That too, yes,” Cas smiles up at him.

With how happy and relaxed he looks, how can Dean refuse?

“Okay,” he whispers to himself for the hundredth time.

Slowly, as Cas puts the final touches to his set up, Dean takes off his pants, and shirt, taking the time to fold them carefully before facing Cas again. “Right.”

As expected as it was, when Cas hands Dean the cheap black mask that he agreed to wear, Dean can’t help giving it a dubious look before he puts it on. “Let’s do this.” _Before I change my mind…_

He takes his place behind Cas. His stomach tries to escape his body through his throat _. It’s gonna be fine. It’s just a little handjob between friends, nothing bad._

“Stay behind me,” Cas instructs. “Only do what I tell you to do, and don’t talk. From now on, you’re just a toy.”

“Reassuring,” Dean whispers, which prompts Cas to shush him sternly.

Dean rolls his eyes, but complies. His heart is pumping blood so hard up his brain, anyway, that he’s not sure he could say anything interesting even if he wanted to.

He doesn’t get it. Why it’s so hard. It’s not like he’s a blushing virgin or anything, for Christ’s sake! He’s done things, lots of things. Never with guys, but some of those things were pretty fucked up looking back on them. It’s not like any of his acquaintances are going to find that piece of gay porn and recognize him.

“Put your hands on my hips,” Cas orders, before clicking the bright red ‘RECORD’ button on screen.

The video feed goes live before Dean can protest, so he obeys. Cas appears on screen. Behind him, Dean can see his own torso clearly, but his face is cut in half. 

“Hi, everyone,” Cas says, tone of voice even deeper than usual. “I know I’ve been absent these last few days, and you’ve probably noticed my friend, here,” he waves toward Dean, so Dean wave to the camera. “Now, allow me to explain…”

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

The first couple of hours are actually fairly boring. People ask Cas to do stuff, and Cas indulges them, or refuses if they ask for something overtly sexual. Every time, he tells them to have a little patience. So far, Dean has only been there to stroke Cas’s hip or thigh, and slap his ass once.

But overall, his clients are happy to see him back, and are showering him with tokens, which are, Dean assumes, what passes for currency on the website.

Another question from Beasty_Boy_69 pops up. That guy seems to be Cas’s number one fan.

“Hm,” Cas lets out, reading it. “‘ _Angel, you should let Hunter touch some more interesting parts of you. Poor thing is looking so impatient!_ ’ Yes,” Cas turns to Dean, whom he lovingly dubbed ‘Hunter’ when they both realized he was going to need a name, and gives him an appraising look. “I think you’re right, Beasty Boy. D… Hunter’s been a really good boy.” Dean’s stomach does a little flip at that. He tries not to pop a boner. Somehow, he doesn’t feel like he earned the right just yet. “He deserves a treat,” Cas goes on, leaning back on Dean.

Dean has no choice but to spread his legs, so that Cas can fit between them. He dropped the t-shirt a while back, and Dean can feel the heat radiating from his skin. He wishes he could shred his own t-shirt, too.

“What could he touch,” Cas muses.

The answers pop right away, as do the tokens. Some say abs, some others suggest Dean puts his fingers in Cas’s mouth, but, overwhelmingly, the answer is his dick. _Obviously_.

“I don’t think Hunter’s been _that_ good just yet,” Cas says.

On the screen, Dean sees him raise an eyebrow in that angelic, commanding way of his, and his dick stirs in his boxers. To top it all off, Cas raises his arms in a parody of a stretch and let his hand rest on the back of Dean’s neck.

“But I like Pricker’s suggestion,” he goes on.

Dean has to lean forward a little bit to check the chat on screen and find ‘Pricker’ among all the answers Cas got. ‘ _Nipples_ ’, his message just says. _Well_.

All Dean has to do is put his hands on Cas’s belly, trail up his abs, and sides, and reach his nipples. Nothing too bad. But it’s easier said than done. Cas seems to sense his hesitation, and looks up at him.

“Go ahead,” he whispers, smoothly.

_Jesus Christ_.

_Okay_ , Dean thinks to himself, since he can’t talk, _let’s do this_.

Cas’s skin is warm, perfectly tanned, still, after all those years under three layers of clothes. And he smells _good_. Always has, but without his clothes on, the light smell of sweat and skin is almost dizzying. It’s not hard to touch his hips. What’s hard is knowing what’s likely to come next.

“Slowly,” Cas whispers, “we have time.”

Dean has no idea if he’s talking only to him or to his audience, but it sends a shiver down his spine anyway. It’s thrilling, to follow the order. Trail his finger lightly along Cas’s ribs, index fingers circling his nipples in a playful way. Not touching, not pinching. Not yet.

“Good,” Cas breathes, sinking a little more against Dean.

His eyelids flutter shut, and he sighs.

Dean keeps his eyes on the screen, hypnotized by the tokens falling into Cas’s account. Also, he’s scared that if he looks at Cas, he’ll really get into it, and forget himself. He’s only here to help, after all, and a quick look at Cas’s injured wrist is enough to remind him.

Truth is, he’s always noticed how good Cas smells, and how handsome he is. Cas and his habit of ignoring Dean’s personal space didn’t help either. Dean _likes_ him. He figured it out a while ago, but decided not to do anything about it. First, because Cas is his friend, and Dean doesn’t want to take advantage. And second, because Dean is too chickenshit to even try attempting anything.

It took him nearly forty years to be comfortable with the world ‘bisexual’, so he thinks he went far enough in accepting himself. For now.

As Cas just said, they have time.

Anyway, Dean should focus on the task at hand. Namely, playing with Cas’s nipples, which, if he’s honest, he’s fantasized about enough times to know exactly what he’s doing without even thinking about it.

Still, not an excuse to let his mind wander off. Especially since thinking about Cas and his fantasies didn’t go unnoticed by his dick, and he’s starting to get a chubby that he soon won’t be able to control if he doesn’t pay attention.

As Dean finally pinches a nipple, rolling it lightly between his thumb and forefinger, Cas lets out a low moan. The chat is going crazy.

‘ _KISS!!!!_ ’ GlitterAnimal keeps writing, over and over again. Other people are following his lead, and only Beasty_Boy_69 doesn’t seem to be very happy about it.

The constant ‘ping ping ping’ of the chat has Castiel open one eye to check on it.

“You’re not very patient,” he tells the chat. “All of you. You don’t really deserve anything if you’re not going to wait…”

He pushes himself away from Dean, and Dean has to bite his lower lip to prevent himself from protesting. Lucky for him, most of the chat is very vocal about it, too. They want to see more, and they want it _now_.

“Ah,” Cas smiles, “I see you’re all against me.” Breathing out a dramatic sigh, he leans back against Dean again. “If I read you correctly, I’m the one who should be punished,” he muses.

Dean’s heart is beating like crazy now, his dick stirring in his boxer shorts as if it has a mind of its own.

“Should I let Hunter play with me as he wishes, then?”

_Oh God. Jesus, fuck, yes!_

Dean’s excited about the prospect, but he’s also kinda scared. He doesn’t know this strange new world at all, and doesn’t know what Cas would like him to do, and, really, he’s barely done any of this gay shit in his own time, now he has to do it without guidance, in front of an audience?

_Shit_. His hands are shaking.

Luckily, Cas seems to sense it. “I don’t think he deserves it, though. If you don’t mind,” he raises an eyebrow at the camera, “I’d rather guide his hand.”

He looks up at Dean, then, and Dean curses the mask because it falls a bit in front of his eyes, and his view is not ideal. “I’ll have to use my bad hand, though, so you’ll still have work to do,” Cas tells him.

Dean nods, and whispers a small, “Yes, Sir,” that comes out of nowhere.

Maybe it’s Cas’s tone of voice, maybe it’s the Angelic Look of Doom Cas is throwing him.

Cas’s eyebrows quiver imperceptibly, and he smiles, “Good Boy.”

This shouldn’t feel so hot. Dean’s dick has found independence, now, and his chubby grew into a full blown erection without his consent. He’s hard as a rock. _Jesus Christ_.

With a devious tug of his lips, Cas wriggles his ass against it, raising an eyebrow at Dean. _Fuck_. How is he going to hold on for another hour? Two? How long are these sessions, anyway?

“I can _feel_ Hunter’s impatience,” Cas coos, pouting at the screen. Dean’s face heats up at the words.  “I’m not going to let him suffer for too long, then, since it’s his first time.”

A few ‘ _congrats!_ ’, and ‘ _you go, Hunter!_ ’ appear on screen. Even one ‘ _You should get your own channel!_ ’ that makes Dean a little uncomfortable, if he’s honest.

How, in the name of Christ, did Cas end up tangled in all of this? And he seems to enjoy it, too. Unbelievable.

It’s kind of fun to watch Cas do his thing, though. To see how comfortable he is, how his persona changes in front of the camera. Yes, Dean’s really curious to know how it all started.

But for now, he has something to do. Something that makes him feel like his stomach is full of worms. Or cockroaches. Or, like, really, really big ants.

“I’m really looking forward to this,” Cas says, his voice dipping dangerously low.

His right hand, the injured one, comes in contact with Dean’s, and he just lets it rest there.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he tells Dean.

_Holy shit! Fuck. Okay_. It’s now or never.

Cas settles a bit more comfortably against Dean, the top of his head nesting in the crook of Dean’s neck. Unable to help himself, Dean takes a whiff of Cas’s scent. His hair smells like Sam’s brand of hippie shampoo, and as much as he would very much like not to think about his brother in this moment, it manages to calm the beating of his heart a little.

Tentatively, he lets his right hand rest on Cas’s hip. Cas’s hand stays on top of his own, following the movement. Interesting. It already gives Dean plenty of ideas. _Fuck_ , this is Cas, right here, in front of him! He’s about to touch Cas’s dick.

Why is that prospect of it so scary?

Touching another man’s dick is one thing, one terrifyingly awkward process to imagine. But to touch Cas? Dean never thought in a million years he’d get to. And being so close to doing it makes him feel like he’s about to shit his pants.

To stall for a time, he brings his other hand close to Cas’s belly button, the tip of his fingers grazing Cas’s happy trail down to the edge of his underwear, then back up. As an answer, Cas hums.

It gives Dean a bit of courage, and soon his fingers are dipping under Cas’s boxer shorts.

The warmth of his skin is even greater there, and Dean can almost feel the head of his dick like a phantom touch to his knuckles. He’s so close. Instinctively, he licks his lips, and Cas’s eyes catch the movement. In answer, he tilts his head back, spreading his legs.

Dean lets out a breathy, silent laugh, and his left hand pushes Cas’s underwear down, slowly, as his right hand, still under Cas’s, reaches for the crown of Cas’s cock.

Finally, he’s touching it.

It’s warm, and soft, and just chubby enough that it probably feels too big once it’s inside of you…

Cas closes his eyes, a contented smile on his face. Goosebumps are rising on his arms, and a shiver echoes the sentiment inside Dean, his stomach fluttering pleasantly at the sight. Dean is not touching him fully, for now, and, as an experiment, he runs his thumb on the slit of Cas’s dick, spreading pre-come as he does.

Cas’s breath stutters. Dean chuckles, feeling bolder by the second.

The sound of the chat and of tokens falling into Cas’s account are like background noises. Dean doesn’t give a single shit about them. Or, rather, he’s still self-conscious about being on camera, but at least it doesn’t bother him as much as it did when they started.

Cas is keeping an eye on the chat, eyes nonchalantly blinking open every few seconds. ‘ _Kiss_!’ Cas’s viewers are saying.

And, hey, Dean’s here to give a show, right?

As he closes his fist around Cas’s dick in a tight grip, he dips his head, and sucks Cas’s earlobe in between his lips. Cas’s hips buck and he exhales, surprised. His fingers resting on Dean’s hand tighten as well. He gives Dean a look. _The_ look. The one that first made Dean realize he felt something for the once-angel, the glare so intense it pierces through him every time, the one that could mean anything from ‘you’re going to pay’ to ‘I would die for you’.

Right now, Dean doesn’t know what it means, but he’s pretty sure it’s positive. At least he hopes so.

People in the chat seemed to have enjoyed it, judging by how many tokens Cas receives at once.

His other hand dips behind Cas’s balls, and Dean’s heart misses a beat when he holds them in his hand, because, Holy fuck, he’s doing it! Cas relaxes minutely into his arms. He’s pliant, now, breath coming out in short little bursts following the slow rhythm Dean is setting on his dick.

It’s like Cas’s skin is burning Dean’s hand, not only because his body is radiating heat, but also because it feels forbidden to touch him this way. To touch an angel this way. The little noises of contented pleasure Cas is making, right into Dean’s ear, are downright sinful.

For all Dean knows, Chuck would probably endorse all of this, knowing him. As much as someone can boast to know God, of course.

_Jesus Christ_ , Dean is actually jerking off a son of God! He still can’t believe it. And, hey, maybe he should focus a little. It’s all so new and unbelievable that he could almost forget what he’s doing.

Almost.

After all, it’s a dream come true. He should focus. Try to enjoy it, instead of thinking about Cas’s dad, or whatever.

A loud, and fake – if Dean knows Cas as much as he thinks he does – moan pulls him out of his thoughts, and he looks down. Cas is quirking an eyebrow at him, so Dean gives him an apologetic pout as he twists his wrist just the way he likes to do with himself.

He’s rewarded by a breathy exhale from Cas, and a renewed sense of excitement flows through him. His dick throbs in his pants, trapped between his lower belly and Cas’s ass.   

Time to really get to work, then. His left hand, the one on Cas’s balls, has been motionless for a while. As he moves his right up and down Cas’s shaft, making sure to thumb at the slit every time he reaches the crown, he slowly caresses his sack, pushing at the perineum experimentally.

Cas seems to like it. A lot.

“Keep going,” he orders, sinking even more into Dean.

He’s fully leaning on him, now, neck arching back on Dean’s shoulder in a beautiful display of ecstasy.

Dean can’t resist it. All he has to do is lower his head, just a little, and his lips are on Cas’s neck, tongue darting out to taste the skin. He sucks at it, suddenly thrilled by the prospect of other people --read: Sam -- seeing the mark.

Dean eyes the chat, to see if he’s doing things right.

‘WE DON SE E SHHIT!!’ Ass_bAndiT is saying.

Oh. Yeah.

Dean has both his hands inside Cas’s pants, and, as he can see on screen, Cas’s hand on his hides most of the action.

He licks a stripe up Cas’s neck, smirking at the camera for good measure, before he takes his left hand off Cas’s sack.

Cas makes a disappointed noise with the back of his throat, eyes blinking open in surprise. So Dean doesn’t make him wait. Still stroking Cas’s dick with his other hand, he pushes his underwear down, until his balls are at least visible on camera.

“Good,” Cas says in approval. “Now get back to work.”

“Yes, Sir,” Dean repeats, louder this time, with much more enthusiasm than before.

Blood’s pumping in his veins, down to his dick, and he bucks his hips once or twice to relieve a bit of the pressure before diving his hand down to Cas’s balls again.

Cas hums.

He’s setting the rhythm, now, even with his injured hand, alternating between rapid strokes and more languid slides of hands.

Dean just lets his right hand be guided, and does his thing with his left, massaging Cas’s sack, sliding his fingers further and further down every few seconds.

Under his forearms, he can feel Cas’s stomach tighten. He’s close. Very close. The most wonderful little sounds are escaping his lips.

Dean wants to drink them out of his mouth.

As if sensing the thought, Cas opens his eyes. He gives Dean the lewdest look through hooded eyes, and surges up, catching Dean’s lips between his own.

The chat explodes, and Dean doesn’t give a single fuck. Cas’s tongue is warm against his own. His heart bursts into little pieces when Cas bites his lower lip, hard, before giving it tiny little kitten licks. Dean can’t help the moan that bubbles up his throat.

He bats Cas’s injured hand away from his own, wincing at the small noise of pain he swallows from Cas’s mouth, but ignores it in favor of giving him the best orgasm of his life. He’ll apologize later.

Setting a punishing rhythm on Cas’s dick, he keeps devouring his mouth.

Cas holds his breath, suddenly, and all it takes to make him come is a twist of the wrist from Dean and a finger firmly pressed against his perineum.

A beautiful, broken moan comes out of Cas’s mouth, right against Dean’s lips. His cock swells and pulses in Dean’s hand. Dean doesn’t relent, even as he feels a splash of come on his arm. He milks Cas for all he’s worth, until little whimpers are the only noises he can make.

Slowly, Dean stops, hands trailing down Cas’s lower belly as they finally break apart. Cas stares, then, like it’s the first time he’s seeing Dean. Dean’s pretty sure he’s got the same look on his face.

Cas swallows and clears his throat, “Not bad. For a first time,” he croaks, voice hoarse from his orgasm. “I’m going to sign off, now, guys,” he tells the chat, eyes still glued to Dean’s face, roaming over it.

With a sigh that almost sounds regretful, he pulls away, and leans over the computer.

“Thanks for watching,” Cas addresses his fans, with, Dean suspects, less enthusiasm than he usually shows at the end of his sessions, “and see you next time!”

And he clicks the ‘stop’ button on the screen.

Suddenly, they’re alone again. The awkwardness is almost palpable.

“So that was—” Dean starts, at the same time as Cas says, “Thank you, Dean.”

They fall silent and stare at each for a few seconds, the distance between them so obvious it seems to scream at them.

“Uh. You’re welcome,” Dean finally finds the courage to say.

His eyes travel down Cas’s body, not really consciously, and he has to cough to hide a laugh when he sees that Cas is sitting awkwardly, knees on the side and underwear still around his thighs.

“Uhm,” he lets out.

That’s all it takes for Cas to look down. He blushes, which Dean finds all kinds of cute, but would die rather than admit, and pulls his shorts up.

It’s his turn to take a good look at Dean. His eyes stop on the bulge between Dean’s legs. “Do you want me to…” he trails off.

_God, yes!_ Dean thinks, as his mouth opens to say, “No. No! Thanks.” He hides his crotch with his hands. “I’m, I’m good. It’s fine.”

“Okay,” Cas nods.

“Okay.”

Another moment passes. Dean’s dick is softening, and he finds himself wanting to get out of there as soon as possible before his hard on disappears. He wants to enjoy it, too, dammit!

“So…” he says, because it feels rude to just up and leave after what happened. “I just… I think I’m gonna go? If that’s okay with you?”

“Of course,” Cas answers.

He appears to be frowning, but then again, this is almost his resting face, so Dean tries not to worry too much about it. He scoots to the edge of the bed, and grabs his pants. A quick look at Cas’s digital alarm clock tells him it’s 3:24 AM, so he thinks he can safely go back to his room without putting his clothes back on. No way Sam is up at this hour, especially since he’s been waking up at five every morning to go running, the giant nerd.

“Okay,” Dean repeats, walking timidly to the door, “Uh, g’night.”

Cas smiles gently. “Good night, Dean.”

And if Dean didn’t have a boner to take care of, he thinks he would’ve kissed that smile just to remember it forever.

##   


	3. Chapter 3

Dean isn’t about to forget the intense jerk off session that occurred after that night. And, granted, at first he’d been apprehensive, but he soon came to realize that this cam business was _AWE. SOME_. So, starting the very next day, he dives into research.

He locks himself in his room, which has the double advantage of hiding him from Sam _and_ Cas. He loved what he and Cas did, still wishes he could smooch Cas to death, but he’s also very uncomfortable with the prospect, since he doesn’t know what Cas thinks about it. There’s also the matter of the game of gay chicken he’s been playing for most of his life. He’s having a kind of gay panic, now. Better work it out in his own time. Alone. Watching cam boys, locked in his room. And taking notes about it.

He spends so much time on it, almost a whole week, that when he finally becomes aware that Cas hasn’t gotten back to him, the sense of disappointment is way stronger than Dean thinks it ought to be.

But maybe Cas didn’t dare come to Dean? After all, Dean’s the one who’s been hiding from him. Or maybe his wrist hurt too much. Or… maybe it wasn’t as good for Cas as it was for Dean?

The thought brings cold, shameful goosebumps up Dean’s spine. He _needs_ to find out what’s up.

Unfortunately, as he rounds the corridor to get to Cas’s room, Sam appears, seemingly out of nowhere, like a friggin’ enormous Jack-in-a-box.

Dean practically flips back when he sees him. “JESUS! SAM!”

“What,” Sam blinks, unaware he just gave Dean the fright of his life.

“You scared the shit out of me!”

Sam just huffs, eyeing Dean up and down. “You’re one to talk. I haven’t seen you in days!”

_Here we go._

“I was,” Dean starts. He has no idea where he’s going with this. “Resting.”

Sam gives him his best incredulous bitchface, “Resting?”

“Uh huh. Had a cold.”

“Right.”

“Right,” Dean repeats, suddenly vexed that his brother doesn’t believe his lie.

“You weren’t hiding from Cas because your emotional talk didn’t go as planned?”

Uh. Okay. That’s a better one. Dean goes for it, feigning a contrite sigh. “Shuddup,” he just says, which is sure to have Sam believe his act.

As if on cue, a triumphant smile tugs at Sam’s lips. “Go talk to him,” he tells Dean, smugly. “I’m sure he forgot all about it.”

To play it safe, Dean tries to act a bit shy, and runs a hand on the back of his neck. “I dunno.”

“Dean, come on.”

“Whatever,” he mumbles. Then, for good measure, “We’ll see.”

Sam clasps his shoulder, seemingly satisfied. “You’ll manage.”

And he disappears, sauntering off to whatever he does these days.

Right. So. Where was he?

Yes. Cas. Ask Cas what this silence thing is all about.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas says, voice grave as he looks up at Dean from his place on his bed.

When Dean interrupted him, he was watching Downton Abbey on Netflix. Dean was already walking on eggshells, then. Nobody interrupts Cas when it’s Netflix time. Dean should’ve seen the bad news coming, though, seeing as how gentle Cas had been with him when Dean asked him what was up.

“No. No, no, it’s fine,” Dean stammers. “I’m, I’m glad you’re feeling better, man.”

Cas nods, and looks down at his hands.

It’s true. Dean’s happy that Cas’s wrist was only sprained, and that it got better after only a couple of days. He’s just… so disappointed that Cas doesn’t need him anymore. He was so looking forward to it. And he did research, for Christ’s sake! But he can’t tell Cas that, obviously.

“Thanks,” Cas answers.

And here comes the awkwardness again.

“Well,” Dean lets out in a breath, shuffling on his feet, “I’ll just leave you to it, then.”

Another nod from Cas, and Dean’s already turning on his heels, ready to bolt out the door.

“You know,” Cas says, and Dean freezes. “I’ve never earned as much money as when you were with me.”

 _Huh_. Dean doesn’t know what to make of that. Knowing Cas it could only be his way of saying ‘thank you’, or it could mean something else.

Dean decides to face him to see if he can read a bit more on the angel’s face. “That’s, uh, nice.”

“It is,” Cas agrees. “I still owe you half of it.”

So that’s what it’s all about. Dean feels his shoulders relax a little. He wasn’t even aware he’s been tense. “Honestly, Cas, I’m fine,” he laughs. “You can keep it. I don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Cas answers, very seriously. “You did half of the work.”

“It’s cool, Cas, I swear—”

“Dean.”

“It’s not like I even need it.”

Cas is glaring, now. “Please.”

This looks important to him, somehow. So Dean huffs, “Fine.”

“Good,” Cas nods again, satisfied.

 _Holy fuck_ , a single word should definitely not have that erotic effect on Dean, but it does, sending a shiver up his spine.

Thankfully, Cas is back to fumbling with his hands, so Dean is pretty sure he didn’t notice. Something tells him it also means Cas wants to say something else. So he waits. And waits.

“Anything else you wanna tell me,” Dean prompts after a few seconds.

He’s getting impatient. But seriously, this is about sex, and about Cas, and Dean’s brain is not equipped to deal with this like a reasonable adult.

“I was thinking,” Cas finally says, looking up. The Look of Doom is back on his face. This is serious. “I can’t have you with me on my channel all the time. It would defeat the point of the website… I mean, there are couples who do shows together but, I fear doing that would render my own channel obsolete…”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Okay…”

“But we can’t ignore the fact that there’s a lot of money to be made,” Cas goes on. He frowns. “After all, hunting is expensive. It could help, I’m sure, to have a legal source of income.”

 _Oh, God. Okay_. “I guess,” Dean shrugs.

His heart is beating in his throat with the anticipation of what Cas is about to say. If he’s asking what Dean thinks he’s about to ask, then Dean’s about to explode.

“But we could,” Cas goes on. _Fuck yes!_ “If you’re amenable, of course, do something else. As a team.”

Being a very emotional creature, even though he rarely shows it, Dean’s used to feeling impatient, or excited. About the prospect of a good hunt, a good beer, or a good pie. Sometimes a good fuck.

But this… this takes the cake. This tops everything off, times a billion.

“Sure,” he says, trying to play it cool, but his voice raises a few octaves, betraying him. “Why not.”

Images, memories from the other night are already invading Dean’s brain, and it takes all of his willpower not to jump Cas right there and then. It was awesome, sure, but Cas is his friend, first and foremost, so Dean has to be very careful. It’s a dangerous game they’re playing. And at any moment they can be interrupted by a hunt, or someone coming for them. Someone coming for Cas.

Fuck that, Dean thinks. After everything, they deserve to have a good time.

A genuine smile blooms on Cas’s face, “Great.”

Dean smiles back. It seems to make Cas happy, and it comforts him in his thoughts that this is a good thing. This is fun.

Tentatively, he sits an ass cheek on the bed. “So what did you have in mind?”

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

A video. Friggin’ porn, that’s what Cas had in mind. Not that what they did on the cam website wasn’t porn, but it was live, and once it was over, nobody would see any trace of it ever again.

A video _, a film_ , is different. It’s going to stay on the internet _forever_.

Dean wasn’t really down with the idea at first, but Cas reassured him, telling him they’d only reenact what they did for the cam session, and, okay. Dean is kind of okay with that, even if it means ending the night with a stiffy again.

So, a couple of nights after their discussion, they set it up. Cas buys a reflex camera, with a tripod that they put at the foot of the bed, and off they went.

It’s as great as it was the first time. Dean looks forward to the moment they’ll kiss, and when it happens, he sees stars. Overall, it’s amazing. He doesn’t even mind that he has to excuse himself as soon as they’re done to take care of his boner. There’s no awkwardness between them, Cas even gives his hard dick a knowing look before bidding him ‘good night’, a note of playfulness in his voice.

The awkward moment happens the night after that. When they actually have to _watch_ the video to make sure everything’s right.

“Do I have to be here,” Dean asks, uncomfortably, as they’re sitting on Cas’s bed.

“You need to see it to tell me if there’s anything I should cut,” Cas answers.

He’s setting up his laptop, and isn’t looking at Dean. In fact, he hasn’t been looking at Dean all day.

“Fuck,” Dean breathes. “I hate seeing myself on camera.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Cas answers, distractedly.

He opens a window on screen, then another containing only a single video file.

_Oh, God. Here it is._

“There,” Cas lets out in a sigh.

Sounds like he doesn’t want to watch it either. At least Dean’s not the only one who’ll suffer.

“Well, play it,” Dean blurts. “I’m not gonna wait here all night!”

“I always forget how patient you are,” Cas deadpans, glaring at him.

He presses play. Just like that. Without ceremony. The scene opens on a close-up of Cas, frowning at the camera. “ _We’re live_ ,” his double says on screen.

Dean tries to relax, leaning back against the headboard. The video’s forty-five minutes long. It’s gonna be a hoot…

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Dean hides his face behind his hands, only peeking through his fingers because, Hell, this is embarrassing. He just doesn’t want Cas to see how red it is.

“ _Ah! Just like that_ ,” Video-Cas says.

_Jesus Christ._

On screen, Dean looks ecstatic, expertly jerking Cas off with a smirk on his face, tongue darting out from time to time to suck a hickey on Cas’s neck. Cas, the real one sitting next to him, doesn’t look too phased by what he’s seeing. There’s an air of concentration about him, and if Dean hadn’t seen the bulge he’s trying to hide between his legs, he’d think Cas was bored.

The kiss is coming. Any second, now.

Dean huffs, trying to expel the nervousness. It’s one thing to give a friend a handjob, and to kiss the Hell out of him, but it’s another to watch it happen after the facts.

 _But, Hell_ , he catches himself thinking, _Cas has such a pretty dick._

“Jesus,” he breathes, when, finally, Cas catches his lips. On screen, that is.

He can’t hold the exclamation back. He’s never seen anything so filthy before. Now he’s fully hard, all right. It’s gonna be a long night.

“We sure look very enthusiastic,” Cas comments. “People are going to appreciate it.”

In the video, Cas moans. He’s about to come.

“ _Tha’s right_ ,” Video-Dean says, voice dripping with lust, “ _Just let go, Baby_.”

Dean is mortified. “That’s so cheesy!”

Cas shrugs, eyes fixed on the screen. “I liked it. It shows we’re close.”

“But aren’t people gonna thing we’re, like, together _, together_?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Video-Cas screams as he comes, and Video-Dean laughs.

But Cas, actual, living, breathing Cas next to him, is staring at him instead of the screen, like he just had the greatest revelation since the dawn of time. “We could market it as if we were a couple,” he says, drowning the moans and whimpers of his double on screen. “People love amateur work. If we pretend to document our sex life, we could get more views!”

Dean’s never seen him that excited about anything. Ever.

“I…” Dean starts, blinking at him. “I mean, I trust you, man, but… I don’t know.” He huffs. Briefly, his eyes catch Video-Dean and Cas making out, Cas melting into his arms like a giant, satisfied cat, while Dean slowly keeps stroking his soft dick. They _do_ look like they’re in love. _Christ_. “How many of those videos d’you wanna make,” he asks, looking back at Cas.

“Why,” Cas frowns. “Does it bother you?”

 _No, it’s just that I don’t know how many of these I can take before I start jumping you every time I see you_ , Dean thinks.

He doesn’t say it.

“No,” he says, instead, licking his lips. “It’s just a lot to take in… I just wanna know so I can prepare. Mentally, you know?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Cas hums, thoughtful, and looks back at the screen. His double is crawling toward the camera suggestively. Video-Dean smacks his ass, and Video-Cas gives him his best impersonation of Sam’s bitchface before turning the camera off.

The screen goes black.

“We’ll do as much as you’re comfortable with,” Cas finally says. “But I want you to understand it’s not all about the money.”

Dean tilts his head on the side, in what he hopes looks like an interrogating gesture.

Cas sighs, “I like sex, Dean,” he states. Dean blushes. “This is fun for me. It’s even more fun when you’re with me,” he says to his nails.

Dean straightens up. “It’s fun for me too,” he mumbles. “I just hope it won’t make things complicated between us, is all.”

At that, Cas rolls his eyes. “It’s just sex, Dean.”

 _Is it?_ He wants to answer. But all he says is, “Yeah,” in a half laugh.

Silence falls on them again as they stare at each other. Dean wonders after how many videos it’ll stop being awkward between them.

“So,” Cas breaks the silence, “anything you want me to remove?”

“Uh,” Dean says. He scratches the back of his head, reflexively drawing his knees toward his chest. “I don’t think so. Besides, you know,” he gestures toward the laptop, “You being all serious at the beginning.”

Cas nods, “Yes, of course.”

“Good,” Dean answers, clearing his throat.

After that, there’s not much left to say. Dean finds a bullshit excuse, and goes back to his room to masturbate.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

They’re sitting in the library this time. Sam decided he has enough of sitting around, and found a simple salt and burn to work on, on his own, to breathe a bit from, as he put it, “Whatever kind of tension there’s between you two!”

So Dean and Cas are alone, at last.

“So this is it,” Dean says, eyeing the website.

“It’s a fairly popular porn site,” Cas answers, very seriously. “And it also has a whole ‘gay’ section. Maybe we could interest a few bi-curious people in the process.”

Dean can do nothing but stare at him for a moment. “Damn,” he says. “You think about everything, don’t you?”

Cas shrugs. “I’m always so surprised when you forget I’ve been a General in Heaven for millennia.” As always, any comment about his work in Heaven makes Dean cower on himself. “I’ve been _created_ to think about all possibilities for success and to choose the best one,” Cas goes on.

He’s all smug now, seeing Dean’s reaction.

Dean sighs, “And you don’t mind using Heaven’s training for porn?”

“Absolutely not.”

Dean huffs a little laugh. This is it, then. They’re launching their first vid. God help them. “It’s taking a while…” he complains.

Not his fault, though. He’s feeling jittery.

“Again,” Cas tells him, not moving his eyes away from the loading bar. Fifty-seven percent has already gone through, “It’s forty-three minutes long. It’s going to take at least the same amount of time to upload.”

Maybe it’s the nerves, but Dean feels the need to be grumpy about it. “And you’re sure we’ll get paid?”

Cas looks at him like he wants to slap him. “Yes, every single view is earning us money, and in real time.” He exhales through his nose when Dean opens his mouth to whine some more. “And we get a bonus for each ‘like’,” he says before Dean can speak, “Stop asking the same question over and over. Just… try to think about what we’ll do next time.”

Next time. _Right_. As if Dean hasn’t been creaming himself for days just thinking about all the things they could do.

“I thought about it,” he answers.

Cas grunts. “Then think about it some more. In silence.”

And, okay, Dean’s ready to admit he’s been more than annoying today, so he just gives Cas a mockery of a military salute with a cheeky grin on his face, and he shuts his trap.

He really hopes this video thing won’t fuck everything up.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Finally! He’s on his own!

Sam leans back in his seat, sighing, the cheap plastic chair of his hotel room creaking ominously as he does.

The hunt’s been taken care of in a matter of hours, but he thinks he can get away with a day or two more away from the bunker. Something’s not right between Dean and Cas, and he’s not really keen on finding out what’s happening.

For now, he just wants to relax. Actually, he wants to watch porn in peace, without fear of his brother barging in on him to complain about his feelings. It all seems so incredible to him that he has to drive half a day away from the bunker to finally be free to masturbate.

Hopefully, a few days on their own should help Dean and Cas sort things out. Or Sam hopes so, at least.

And, anyway, porn. That’s what he’s trying to focus on, not the epic love story of his brother and his best friend. Because, yes, Sam’s not blind. They’re both pinning after each other. Sam just hopes one of them will man up soon and ask the other one out before he explodes from the sheer sexual tension between them both.

But, again, not what he wants to think about right now.

Firing up his laptop, he unbuttons his jeans. He likes to let arousal take over, really take over to the point of hurting before he touches himself. For now, he just opens an incognito window on his browser, and types the name of his favorite porn site.

First, he checks what’s being watched at the moment, but nothing seems interesting enough. He goes through the categories, and clicks ‘blowjobs’. He’s in the mood for blowjobs, he thinks. Hovering his pointer over the videos, he watches the small previews with a feeling of boredom. He sighs. Hesitates.

He could go check the gay portion of the website. He does, from time to time. The thing is, hetero porn is either too soft, or too rough. The women take too much care, go too slowly, and the men like to have them choke on their dicks, and, honestly, Sam doesn’t find it exciting, at all.

Gay porn on the other hand feels much truer. The guys clearly know what they’re doing, and they’re even enthusiastic about it. To be honest, Sam would rather watch gay porn when both the receiver and the giver look like they’re actually enjoying themselves, rather than watch het porn and having to witness girls crying their eyes out because men are forcing their cocks down their throats.

So that’s what he does. And when the home page has loaded, something makes him stop on his way to find the BJ category. One of the guys in the tiny preview for one of the video kinda looks like Cas.

Huffing a laugh, he checks this preview in particular. A hand job. _Why not?_ Sam thinks to himself, and he opens the vid.

He almost has a heart attack when the video has loaded and Cas’s face pops up on screen.

“Hi, everyone,” Cas starts. He looks completely comfortable, sitting there shirtless for the world to see. “I’m Angel, and this,” he turns around, and Dean leans over from behind him, waving at the camera, “is my boyfriend, Hunter.”

“Heya,” Dean says, shyly.

Sam forgets how to breathe for a second. What the fuck is happening? Mesmerized, he can’t stop watching.

“Hunter and I haven’t been together for long,” Cas keeps talking. “And we wanted to take things slow, but we thought it’d be interesting to document our sex life. And once it’s recorded,” he smiles, “we figured it would only be logical to share with all of you.”

He winks, and Dean laughs in the background.

“So if you like it,” he goes on, solemnly, “be sure to like this video and subscribe to our channel.”

“Come on,” Dean says, “enough talking!”

He pulls Cas back, and they exchange a shy kiss. Sam’s mind is blown. His thoughts are running around in all directions, and he’s so caught up trying to figure this out, find clues as to _when_ it could’ve happen that he doesn’t realize Cas’s dick is out and suddenly _he’s watching his brother masturbate his best friend._

“Oh, God,” he breathes aloud.

But he can’t keep his eyes off the screen.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimers: Downton Abbey is a historical period drama television series created by Julian Fellowes and co-produced by the United Kingdom’s Carnival Films and Masterpiece.
> 
>  
> 
> The Netflix name is wholly owned by Netflix, Inc. an American Entertainment company located in California.


	4. Chapter 4

Things changed between Dean and Cas. Dean can’t put a name on it, but Cas seems much more open now than he was before, for one thing, and second, they keep catching each other staring, but instead of being awkward, it sends a chill up Dean’s spine. A good chill. A chill he kinds of runs after.

Alas, all good things must come to an end. As soon as Sam comes back, Cas starts withdrawing again. Or rather, not withdrawing, per se, but he becomes more discreet, talks less and spends less time at lunch or dinner.

Dean tries not to resent Sam. It’s difficult. But it’s not his fault. It’s just that Cas is a private person, and this whole thing kinda feels like their little secret. Their dirty, filthy, sexy little secret.

But anyway. On this lovely Monday morning, Cas and Dean are in the kitchen, drinking coffee and smiling at each other like two giant goof balls, when Sam shuffles in and breaks the mood.

“Morning,” he yawns.

“Hello, Sam,” Cas nods at him.

But then he closes off on himself, and stares down at his coffee without another word.

Dean decides that he should maybe talk. To Sam, that is.

“How’s it going today?”

Maybe if they get the discussion going, Cas will open up again.

“Uh,” Sam answers, not even turning around the face Dean. “Good. I guess.”

Maybe he’s not all there, yet, after driving half a day and sleeping more than ten hours after that. It just strikes Dean as odd that he hasn’t already launched into a detailed account of what happened on his hunt. Like he usually does.

“So,” he tries again, “Drive back alright?”

Sam finally raises his eyebrows at him. “Like you care.”

“I do care,” Dean answers, trying for a bit of playfulness. “I know how you drive my Baby!”

Sam looks relieved somehow, “I took good care of her, don’t you worry.”

He holds on to his mug like a lifeline, and ambles to the door, about to leave. Dean debates with himself for a millisecond. Should he let Sam go, selfishly, so that he can spend some quality time with Cas, or should he try to talk to his brother, who, somehow, is acting a bit weird? The kid never misses an opportunity to talk and chit-chat, and now he’s all but bolting out the door. This isn’t normal.

“Sammy,” he finally calls out.

Cas tilts his head on the side, quizzically. Dean shrugs.

“What,” Sam breathes, reappearing through the doorway.

“Uh,” Dean tries to smile, “are you okay? You seem… off.”

Miracle of miracles, Cas turns around on his chair to face Sam. “Something happened on the case?”

But Sam is staring at the ceiling now. Almost like he’s avoiding looking at Cas. “I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

Dean’s seeing right through him. He’s uncomfortable. “You don’t wanna spend some time with us, now that Cas came out of his man cave?”

Cas lets out an offended grunt, but Dean ignores him.

“Maybe later,” Sam says, shuffling on his feet like he wants to run. “I need to shower and… you know. Rest.”

“Alright,” Dean answers, skeptical.

Sam waves at them, awkwardly, and leaves. Maybe he _is_ just tired. That’s probably all it is.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Sam is avoiding them. It’s only been a couple of days, but Dean knows his brother, and he knows something’s not right.

He’s so preoccupied that he can’t even think about the next video he and Cas are supposed to make. Every time Cas tries to talk about it with him, he can’t focus enough. Cas is getting annoyed, and, in turn, Dean is getting pissed.

“Go talk to him,” Cas repeats in a bored tone when Dean brings up his concerns again.

And, hey, it worked with Cas. And Sam is always so touchy-feely about everything. Maybe that’s all he’s waiting for. For Dean to grow a pair and go talk to him.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Sam’s face hardens, like he just made the most important decision of his life. He takes a breath. A foreboding shiver runs up Dean’s arms, and goes down all the way to his balls. They twitch in his pants, and, in his experience, it’s never a good sign. Last time they did that was seconds before Amara wounded Chuck to his almost death and the sun started to expand to gobble them all. He calls it the ‘Twitch of the Apocalypse’. Obviously, Sam doesn’t know that, and is quietly bracing himself to let out something that will probably shatter Dean’s world.

Maybe he has cancer. Or he killed someone? Started drinking demon blood again? Who the fuck knows. Dean’s about to find out.

“I’ve seen the video,” Sam lets out, avoiding Dean’s eyes.

Dean doesn’t get it right away, of course, his mind’s still trying to figure out what Sam did now. When he realizes that’s not what happened, he feels a bit guilty about it. That is, until he understands. But how could he have? How, in the immensity of the internet, could he have fathomed that his brother would find the only video of him getting it on with their angel pal?

Once he does, though, oh! Heat comes to his face, a heat so fierce that only the Fires of Hell can rival it.

He’s in very, very, very deep shit.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Dean and Cas are sitting side to side at the library table, heads hung in shame while Sam paces around. Dean feels like he’s in the headmaster’s office, about to be expelled.

“So… let me recap here, for a second,” Sam says, still pacing furiously. “You,” he points at Cas, “decided that a regular job was beneath you, and you chose to sell your ass instead—”

“Technically I only sell my image,” Cas comments.

One look from Sam and Cas is back to looking down at his knees.

“And you,” Sam goes on, addressing Dean, “had nothing better to do than encourage him and participate!”

He throws his arms in the air.

Dean sighs. “That’s not how it happened, and you know it,” he snaps back. “And if Cas likes it, who are you to judge?”

They stare at each other for a few seconds, silently arguing. Dean nods toward Cas and frowns. Sam eyes the angel, and his anger seems to abate a little.

“I’m not really mad,” he finally says, pulling out a chair and falling heavily into it. “It’s just… it surprised me.”

Dean shakes his head, “What were you doing watching gay porn anyway?”

It’s a little victory to see Sam blush.

“It just…” he mumbles. “It feels more real. The act, I mean. It’s more exciting.”

“Right.”

“Really!”

“Whatever,” Dean rolls his eyes. “I don’t wanna know.”

“That’s not the point, anyway,” Sam says, a bit animated now.

Cas looks up at that, still looking grim. “Then what _is_ the point? Are you going to forbid us to do it because you don’t like it? I expected better of you, Sam…”

And that’s a beautiful example of the Look of Doom if Dean’s ever saw one.

Sam gets even redder. “N-no! No, I mean…” he huffs, takes a breath, “I just… I mean, you didn’t tell me and I wondered… are you really… together, now?”

Dean barks out a laugh, not because it’s funny, but because the question is making him very uncomfortable. Somehow, Cas doesn’t seem to appreciate his reaction.

“We’re just pretending, Sammy,” he explains. “The audience like amateur porn, or whatever. Right Cas?”

“Right,” the angel says. But he doesn’t look very happy. “Can I go now?”

Sam is staring between them both, a concerned frown on his face. “Cas,” he says, tone serious, “you know Dean can be insensitive sometimes. But it doesn’t mean he’s doing it on purpose.”

Dean blinks at him, “What?”

He doesn’t really see what Sam means, but Cas does, apparently.

He nods, “I know. Thanks, Sam.”

Dean watches him stand and leave, wondering what he did wrong this time. Granted, he kind of dismissed the idea of them being together, because, as much as he allows himself to fantasize about it, he knows it’ll never happen. Maybe Cas believes Dean’s mocking his interest in porn? But surely, everybody in this bunker knows how fond of porn Dean is. Even though now, Cas seems so much more comfortable with it than Dean will ever be.

 _Fuck_. Everything was going so well! And now Cas is brooding.

“What the fuck did I do now?”

Sam just shots him a glare, as if he should know. Without another word, he grabs his laptop that’s been laying on the table, and takes off for his room.

 _Great_ , Dean thinks. He wonders where all of this mess is going to go now.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Well.

It’s all going to Hell, apparently. This is a nightmare. Dean’s going to wake up any second now.

Sam _summoned_ them to talk about porn, and now they’re all sitting together in the library, in silence, waiting on Sam to say his piece.

“I’ve been thinking,” Sam enounces, slowly.

Dean groans, “Awesome.”

“And I think,” Sam goes on, glaring, “that I can help you.”

Cas cants his head in surprise, “What do you mean?”

Letting out a pained sigh, Sam folds his fingers together, “If you’re going to keep doing porn, I think it’d be a shame not to take advantage of my artistic knowledge.”

Dean is too dumbstruck to laugh. All he can do is stammer, “Your… your what now?”

“I took an art history course in college,” Sam answers. “And we briefly touched on framing in paintings and movies.”

Cas seems to consider it very seriously.

Dean just huffs a laugh, “So you wanna, what? Stage our videos?”

Sam half-shrugs, half-nods, “I want to direct them, yes.”

The cogs turn slowly in Dean’s brain, his mind trying to wrap around the idea. Direction would mean… what? Actually standing behind the camera as Dean and Cas fuck each other?

“You’re joking!”

“I’m dead serious, Dean.”

“It could be a good idea,” Cas says. He squints at Dean. “We should at least consider it.”

“Consider what?” Dean huffs, eyes bulging from their sockets. “Consider letting my _brother_ film us while we’re bumping uglies? No way!”

Sheepishly, Sam looks down at his hands. “It wouldn’t be like that. I can stay profess—”

“No!” Dean stands up, abruptly, and he’s sure he’s as red as a tomato. “End of discussion. You, you… you friggin’… Pervs,” he spits, like it’s the worst insult in the world.

There’s nothing dignified about the way he leaves the room.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“The idea has its merits,” Cas tries the next day.

“No fucking way,” is Dean’s only response.

He won’t let Cas convince him, even if it means they won’t have sex ever again. Dean still has principles, goddammit!

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“I could… turn on the camera and leave for each take,” Sam says, running after him a few days after.

Dean huffs, and, since he’s close to the bathroom, beelines for it, and closes the door in Sam’s face.

“ _At least think about it!_ ” Sam yells through the door.

Dean doesn’t answer. Instead, he steps into the shower, and vents his frustration by angrily jerking off. He does _not_ think about Cas and what they could be doing if only Sam hadn’t stuck his nose in their business. Absolutely not.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

**From: Cas                  03:32am**

If only you’d let Sam realize his dream of  
becoming a movie director, we could try  
this.  
(Attached: pic0146721100)

Dean opens the picture, annoyed even before he reaches the end of the text. What appears on screen slaps him right in the face. Or, well, not exactly in the face, but… _Jesus Christ_! A friggin’ paddle!

He scrolls down his messages, because apparently, giving Dean a heart attack wasn’t enough for Cas.

**From: Cas                  03:34am**

Alas, I’m not into BDSM, unless  
I practice the art in front of a  
camera.

_The fucker._

Dean sends him the finger emoji, and tries not to think about it. He tries. Very hard.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

‘ _Don’t worry about me_ ,’ the letter says, and Dean’s seething. ‘ _It’s only a two-week course, I’ll be back by the end of July. And before you get all bitchy about it, this has nothing to do with the porn videos. Or, it has, in the sense that it made me realize I really enjoy movies and TV shows, so why not learn a little bit about them, you know?_

_Anyway, don’t be an ass to Cas. I’ll call you once I get to LA._

_Xoxo Jerk,_

_Sam_.’

“What the fuck is this,” Dean explodes, waving the letter in Cas’s face.

The angel shrugs, “He wants to study camera work. I don’t see what’s so bad about it.”

“He’s trying to convince me to let him film us!”

Cas raises an imperious eyebrow at him, “Not everything is about you,” he intones, before turning on his heel and leaving the room, all straight backed and dignified, like he’s the friggin’ Queen of England or something.

Dean flips the bird at his back. He won’t cave. Even if Cas keeps sending suggestive texts and freakin’ dick pics. Even if Dean keeps having weird dreams about Cas, and sex, and… ugh! He won’t. And that’s the end of it.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“And Andrew said I was a natural,” Dean hears Sam say in an excited voice.

“Who’s Andrew,” he asks, entering the kitchen.

He regrets it instantly. He’s not awake enough for the level of excitement radiating from Sam.

“The camera operator who taught us about framing.”

Dean grunts. He goes straight for the coffee.

“This is good,” Cas answers Sam. “Maybe you could teach me some of the things you learned?” Dean shakes his head at that. “Or you could film my next session.”

Dean almost drops his mug. He spins around, “What?!”

“I mean, Dean won’t help anymore,” Cas goes on, eyeing him pointedly, “and I’d very much like to improve the quality of my streaming.”

“I could use your Reflex,” Sam agrees. “I learned how to properly set it up.”

“Great,” Cas smiles at him.

A wave of surreal vertigo takes over Dean for a second, and he has to hold on to the counter behind him to stay up straight. “H-hold on, hold on a minute,” he blurts, “Sam. You’re not going to film Cas while he… while he…”

“Why not,” Sam asks, smugly. “You _did_ jerk him off. And please, don’t tell me it’s not the same when it’s you.”

Cas shrugs, looking between both brothers, “If you want to participate, Sam, I’m sure my audience would love it.” Dean chokes on his own saliva. It doesn’t stop Cas, “Most of them would be disappointed that I’m not with ‘Hunter’ anymore,” he air-quotes the name, “but you’re very tall. If you’re… proportionate, we would raise a lot of money.”

Sam blushes, but he’s smiling like he’s flattered.

Dean can’t believe what he’s hearing, “Fuck no!”

“We don’t need your permission,” Cas tells him with a lifted brow.

“Don’t mind him,” Sam laughs. “Dean’s just jealous.”

“I’m, I’m—” Dean stammers, both hands wrapped around his coffee like it’s going to save him. “I’m not jealous!”

“I just meant,” Sam leans back in his chair, crossing his hands behind his head, “that I’m, you know. Bigger. Than you.”

This is all he has to say to bring a blush to Dean’s face. He should’ve stayed in bed.

“I can assure you, Dean, you have nothing to envy about anyone,” Cas smiles at him. “You have _plenty_ of fans.”

Dean huffs, and takes a sip, muttering a small, “Right,” under his breath to expel the awkwardness.

It doesn’t work.

“You haven’t checked the comments,” Cas insists, “have you?”

“What the hell for,” Dean answers, bluntly.

Sam waves him off, and Cas just shakes his head. But now, Dean’s really curious. He didn’t even think about the comment section for their video before that, and, to be honest, he’s a bit scared. What if people only have mean things to say about him?

But the idea takes root in his mind. He needs to check. Alone.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

  * **BigInTheButt**  
_“Loved the complicity! I wish my bf would jerk me off with as much enthusiasm!”_
  * **The_LordoftheRims**  
_“Wouldn’t mind seeing Angel eat a piece of that ass. Nice hand technique, tho! Impressive spurt!”_
  * **TwoDicks-OneAsshole**  
_“I don’t usually watch porn to see people kiss but that was very cute. We can feel the love <3 can’t wait for you to fuck!”_



 

Dean hums, thoughtfully, as he reads. Some of those comments are verging on insulting, even though the authors seem to try to pay them a compliment. It’s weird, to be complimented on his masturbation techniques.

He can’t deny that the number of comments and ‘Likes’ is impressive. There’s a shit ton of them. No way he’ll be able to read them all. He’s flattered, in a way, and it lights the now-familiar fire under his skin, the one that simmers inside him every time he thinks of Cas, and him, and the camera…

_Dammit._

He said he wouldn’t cave in, but oh! How he wants to! Sammy is an obstacle, of course, but as the days pass, and as he thinks about it, it doesn’t seem as terrible as it felt the first time Dean heard the idea.

Sam’s seen him naked. Still does, when they share a motel room and they’re too tired to be embarrassed. It would kind of be the same, except Sam would witness Cas’s dick go into Dean’s ass.

Or, he frowns, catching himself, witness Dean’s dick go into Cas’s ass. Because, _yeah_. Not ready to admit this particular fantasy yet, not even to himself.

But still. It feels weird. Having Sam there while he has his way with Cas. Not there yet.

Not yet, but maybe soon.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

_Oh, God. Here we go!_

Dean approaches the war room, carefully. Sam and Cas are sitting in it, discussing a possible hunt. They haven’t gotten out of the bunker for a while, and, for Cas, it will be his first one as a full-fledged human. Dean is kinda anxious about that, but for now his anxiety has to do with something entirely different.

“Please, Dean,” Cas spits, gritting his teeth, “tell Sam I don’t need you two to hold my hand, on this hunt, or any other job!”

Caught by surprise, Dean stops, just short of sitting down. “Uh. To be honest, I kinda agree with Sam, there.”

Cas rolls his eyes, “Unbelievable.”

“You’ve barely gotten the hang of being human,” Sam counters, as pissed as him. They must have been at it for a while. “You need to be careful!”

“May I remind you,” Cas seethes, voice growing colder and colder by the second, “that I am a soldier of Heaven? I know how to fight!”

“As an angel,” Dean steps in. He’s aware he’s bringing the Wrath of Heaven on himself. “Not as a human.”

Cas grunts, frustrated, “I am entirely capable of handling this case by myself!”

“Like Hell you are,” Sam breathes out.

“Alright, alright,” Dean interrupts Cas who’s about the answer. “Just… calm down! The both of you! There’s no need to have a pissing contest about it, we’re all going! Shut up,” he orders Cas who’s opening his mouth to protest, “We need some time away, okay? And this case is easy, and I think it’ll work nicely. It’ll be like a vacation, alright? So no fighting.” He glares at them, holding a finger under each of their noses like a dad scolding his children. “We clear?”

It takes a while before they nod. Reluctantly, but they do.

“We’re clear,” Cas sighs.

Sam pouts, “Crystal.”

Dean nods as well, satisfied. “Good. Now.” Running a hand over his mouth, he braces himself, “It’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

Sam blinks at him. Cas loses his frown and leans over, interested.

“Oookay,” Sam says.

“We’re listening,” Cas adds.

Dean inhales. He wishes he could stand and pour himself a nice glass of liquid courage, but he feels like it’s too late, now. If he doesn’t get it out right at this instant, he won’t ever.

“Right,” he breathes out. “I’m in.”

They both stare at him. Cas speaks first, “You’re in… what?”

“The, the video,” Dean squeaks. He clears his throat, “Sam filming… directing, or whatever. I guess… if I just don’t look at him… at you,” he adds, eyes drifting toward Sam, “then I guess it could work. I’m in.”

Truth be told, the prospect of sleeping with Cas, having actual, honest-to-God sex with Cas, was too much of a temptation for Dean not to give in. Speaking of Cas, the lazy, warm smile that slowly settles on his face finishes convincing Dean this was the right thing to do. Totally worth it. Even worth the shame of having to fuck with Sam in the same room.

He smiles back, shyly, and settles with them.

After that, the discussion gets animated. They talk shots, and framing, and _mise en scène_ , like they’re about to shoot an independent artsy film and not a porno.

Finally, Dean has to calm his brother and Cas down, and divert the subject to their next hunt. Once they get through it, there’ll be nothing left between Dean and Cas.

He can’t wait.


	5. Chapter 5

The hunt turned out to be one hell of a mess. Witches usually are, but this little coven, or whatever, outdid all the other witches the Winchester ever encountered.

The bodily fluids alone… ugh. Dean can’t even think about it. Not when he’s only wearing gym shorts under his bathrobe. Not when Sam’s manning a camera and he’s about to fuck Cas in the ass for the first time.

He can’t believe it’s finally happening.

It’s taking all of his willpower not to jump around like a little child.

“I can feel you thinking from over there,” Cas smiles from his seat on the weight lifting bench.

Because, according to Sam, there’s nothing as exciting as a gym. And the one in the bunker is very ‘vintage’, whatever that means, so apparently people will find it all the more charming.

“I’m just a bit nervous,” Dean answers.

Cas pats the space next to him, “Come here.”

Dean spares a glance at Sam before he does as he’s told. Fucker’s smiling to himself.

Dean tries to push everything out of his mind, including the smugness radiating from Sam, and goes to sit next to Cas.

“It’s going to be okay,” he tells Dean, a reassuring smile on his face.

“I know,” Dean shakes his head. “I’m just… impatient. Jittery.”

Cas huffs a small laugh, “Like it’s Christmas morning, and you can’t wait, even though you’re a bit scared your gifts won’t be as great as you think they will?”

Dean gives him a surprised look, but it has the merit of making him chuckle, “Pretty much, yeah. That’s pretty accurate for a newbie human.”

Cas looks away, cheeks turning a bit pink, “It’s because I feel the same.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” Cas’s eyes are on him again. “But I know my gift is going to be amazing.”

 _Holy fuck_. The look he gives Dean could melt a glacier. Dean can’t look away. He can see in Cas’s eyes that it’s going to be good.

“Guys, I’m almost ready,” Sam calls after them. There’s a camera set up on a tripod, that Dean recognizes as Cas’s, and another one with a giant lens in his hands.

“Where did you find a second camera?”

“I bought it,” Sam answers, distracted. “You wanna take your places, please? We’ll start with a bit of kissing.”

 _Okay_ , Dean tries to pep talk himself, _you can do it_. He lets his robe fall at his feet.

_Let’s do this!_

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“I, I can’t,” Dean breathes out.

He’s trying not to get angry at himself, but Cas’s been more than patient, and Sammy is trying to be discreet, and somehow, something’s _wrong_.

Cas licks his lips, and Dean tries not to notice how red and puffy they look. As much as he likes to kiss him, Dean’s aware that he’s fucking everything up. He would like to get to the actual sex part, but he stays desperately soft in his shorts.

_Dammit. His shorts! That’s it!_

Sam steps closer to them, “You wanna take a break?”

“Yeah,” Dean sighs, running a hand on his face, “Yeah. Sorry.”

“We can try another day,” Cas soothes.

He strokes Dean’s arm, and Dean melts at the contact. “No. No, it’s just… the shorts, man,” he tells Sam. “I feel ridiculous.”

“Oh,” Sam blinks. “I mean, I think you look fine, but…”

“But it’s staged,” Dean insists. “That’s not me.”

Sam seems to think about it. He looks around, like it’s changing all his plans and he needs to think about it.

“Okay,” he finally says. “Go change. We’ll figure it out as we go.”

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“So, Dean,” Sam says, and he looks so serious that Dean can’t help straightening up as he listens. “You’re just coming back from our last hunt, and you’re pissed, so you’re throwing some punches to relax.”

Dean’s not convinced it’s going to look great, but he feels much better in his own sweatpants and t-shirt, so he just goes with it, “Okay.”

“And Cas,” Sam goes on, “you were worried about Dean, so you come find him to tell him to be careful.” He smiles, pointing at the bench. “You both sit down to have a meaningful discussion that ends in a kiss, and I think you’ll know what to do from here.”

Dean blows a raspberry. He can’t help it, “And _this_ won’t feel staged. At all.”

“You’ll manage,” Sam answers.

His confidence is nice and all, but Dean doubts the result will be Oscar worthy. Who cares, anyway? He’s about to fuck Cas!

“Alright,” Cas breathes. “I just hope our audience won’t mind that we added a bit of fiction to our videos.”

“They’ll love it,” Sam assures him.

His tone leaves no room for discussion, so Dean settles in front of the punching bag.

Sam runs behind the camera, the one on the tripod, pushes a button, and stares at the screen. When he’s satisfied that it’s on, he grabs the other one, and turns it on.

“Okay, we’re all set,” he announces. “Action!”

Dean rolls his head around, jumps from one foot to the other, like he never usually does, but it looked awesome in Rocky, so why not try it here?

When he’s done, he focuses on the punching bag. The first few punches he throws are ridiculously soft. Plus, he can see Sam moving around in his peripheral vision. He needs to focus, dammit!

He needs to go all method acting on this bitch. He needs to get _angry_.

And it’s fairly easy, when he thinks about those fucking witches. Especially the one ugly ass guy who sprayed him with _rabbit poop_. Seriously, what the fuck?

His next punches are much more energetic, and soon he’s breaking a sweat. He doesn’t even hear Cas walking closer to him. So his surprised jump when he hears a low, “Hey,” coming from behind him is genuine.

“Oh, hey, Angel”, he smirks at Cas as he turns to him.

The way Cas smiles back, half annoyed, half amused, makes Dean think Cas is probably remembering the first time Dean called him ‘Angel’ as a joke. “ _What would you say if I called you ‘Human’_ ,” Cas had said, vexed, which at the time had made Dean laugh.

“Still thinking about the witches,” Cas asks.

And Dean nods, because he is, after all. “They’re just so gross,” he sighs.

Cas laughs. “I know. Come here.”

He holds out his hand, so Dean takes it, and lets Cas guide him to the weight lifting bench.

Once they’re sitting side by side, Cas makes him turn his back on him with a wave of a finger. Dean complies, and Cas starts massaging his shoulders.

Dean could almost forget Sam is here with them.

“I just wish you would stop taking so many risks,” Cas finally says.

“You’re one to talk,” Dean says with a groan, because Cas just found a particularly vicious kink in his neck.

“It’s not the same.”

“Damn right it is,” Dean huffs. “You can’t tell me to be careful when you’re not.”

He hears Cas sigh, and a few seconds later, his lips are on the back of Dean’s neck. “And if I promise I’ll pay attention to my safety next time,” he whispers.

Dean turns around, facing Cas properly. Playful, he raises an eyebrow, “Then we’ll see,” he breathes, before bending over to catch Cas’s lips with his own.

Cas pulls away, “Is that a taste of what I’ll get if I behave?”

“Maybe,” Dean shrugs.

And he’s on him again, like Cas is the only thing keeping him alive.

Cas hums against his lips, “I can think of better ways to vent your frustration than punching a bag all day long.”

“Really,” Dean smiles, tongue darting out to taste the salt at the corner of Cas’s mouth. “And what might those be?”

“You know,” Cas answers.

His hands slither under Dean’s shirt, sending goosebumps dancing all over his body. “Yeah.”

He has no idea what he’s saying. All he can hear is the blood pumping loudly in his veins. It’s crazy that Cas manages to make him feel like a horny teenager again. He can barely control his thoughts, he’s so lost in the taste and feel and smell of Cas.

Cas’s hands are warm, and everywhere they touch Dean, they send a jolt of electric anticipation up Dean’s back.

Dean grunts in his mouth, “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Cas counters, and Dean bursts out laughing, throwing his head back in a fit of helpless giggles.

“You’re articulate when you’re horny,” he keeps laughing.

Holding back a smile, Cas punches him lightly on the shoulder. “Shut up and get naked.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

And they go at it again, lips meeting in a melting hot kiss as they try to rid each other of their shirts. Dean feels like a kid. _God_ , he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this young in his life. Ever. They keep giggling, and fumbling, and pulling at each other’s clothes, until Dean feels very hot in the face and he pushes Cas away gently.

When he sees the state of Cas’s hair, he can’t help laughing some more. This is so endearing. Cas’s red cheeks, his hair in disarray, the way his eyes twinkle. _Dammit_ , Dean thinks, eyeing him, the smile on his face stuck there like it won’t ever leave, _I’m falling for an Angel. Typical_.

In this moment, he couldn’t give a rat’s ass. He’ll worry about it later. When he’s not about to tear Cas’s t-shirt from his chest.

 _Fuck_. What a great idea!

“Watch this,” he smirks, and fucking _rips_ the fabric in half, from the neck down to Cas’s navel, “How’s that for venting frustration?”

Cas freezes, looking down and up again, and he bursts out laughing. Dean doesn’t think he’s ever seen him do that before. He’s so surprised he forgets himself and turns to Sam, who’s smiling, too. He waves Dean away, though, mouthing, “ _Don’t look at the camera, dammit!_ ”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” Cas tells Dean as he sheds the rest of his tee with a spark in his eyes, “but I like it very much.”

Pulling Dean by his neck, he crashes their mouths together again. His hands work as hard as his lips. They roam over the expense of Dean’s back, pushing his shirt up as they go, until Dean pulls away, arms in the air, to allow Cas to take it off.

“Are you ready,” Cas asks, doing just so and diving for his neck.

“I should be asking you that question,” Dean mumbles, already busy with the buttons of Cas’s jeans. “Dammit,” he lets out. Blindly, he tries to find Cas’s mouth, “takes them off!”

Cas hums, rolls Dean’s lower lips between his teeth. When he leans back, he’s holding up the bottle of lube he’s been keeping in his pocket. High enough, and in a way that leaves no doubt he’s doing it for the camera.

Sam. _Fuck_ , Dean forgot all about him.

Self-conscious, again, he takes it from Cas, and pretends to read what’s on the bottle.

“You’ll do great,” Cas encourages him.

He pushes at Dean’s chin until Dean has no choice but to look at him. “Stop worrying.”

“What if I hurt you?”

Cas quirks an eyebrow. It shouldn’t be as sexy as it looks. On anyone. “Believe me, you won’t. Quite the contrary.”

His sly smile leaves absolutely no room for imagination. He’s picturing it. Dean with his fingers in his ass. _Jesus Christ!_

“Okay,” Dean nods, “How—”

But he can’t finish his sentence because Cas is kissing him again.

“Get me naked first.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Dean laughs against his mouth.

Cas swats him on the back of the head, but he stands, legs on both sides of the bench. His hands work fast on the buttons of his jeans. As soon as Dean sees his bulge emerge from under the cotton of his boxer shorts, Dean licks his lips. Cas follows the movement with his eyes, and he looks pretty pleased about it.

As he takes his jeans off, Dean can’t help looking at his brother who’s walking closer and closer, now. The camera he’s holding is firmly pointed at Cas, so Dean thinks he can get away with it for a second of two.

The nerves are back, now that he’s about to start the serious part. And having his brother there… God. Best not to dwell on it too much.

“Hey,” Cas calls.

Somehow, it sounds like ‘Dean’, and Dean guesses Cas can’t find it in himself to call him ‘Hunter’. He has to admit he’d find it strange, too.

So Dean turns to him again, and his jaw falls by itself. Cas is fucking naked, standing with a foot on the ground and a knee on the bench, his _glorious_ erection right in front of Dean’s face.

“Holy fuck,” Dean exclaims. Because what else can he say?

“Not quite,” Cas answers, a bit sad, “Not anymore.”

“Oh, I’m definitely going to see God at some point!”

Cas’s nose wriggle in distaste, “For your sake, I hope not.”

It prompts another laugh from Dean, and he scoots closer, wrapping his arms around Cas’s middle. His mouth lands on Cas’s belly, and he nuzzles his nose there, kisses his way around Cas’s belly button, breathes him in until he can feel pubic hair tickling his chin.

Stretching his leg a bit further, the one with the knee on the bench, Cas directs Dean’s hand to his ass. “Time to get to work,” he says, dropping a kiss on the top of Dean’s head.

“You sure you don’t wanna do it,” Dean asks, looking up sheepishly. He tries to grin, to hide how nervous he is, “I wouldn’t mind a show.”

“No,” Cas answers, chest puffing out. “You do it.”

There’s no mistaking the order in his voice. So Dean lets go of him to fumble with the lube, very much aware of Cas’s dick proudly jutting a few inches from his knuckles. And of Sammy inching closer. And closer. He’s going to want to film the whole thing up close and personal, isn’t he?

Of course he is. Dean watches porn almost religiously, so he knows. But, _fuck_ , he’s so not ready for this.

“Okay,” he whispers to himself, popping the cap of the bottle open.

He squeezes it, a bit too hard, and lube spurts out and starts oozing on the side. _Dammit_.

Cas’s hand lands on his shoulder. It’s reassuring, in a way, and when Dean steals a look up at him, he can read the encouragement on his face.

 _Come on, Winchester_ , he berates himself. _Lube on finger, finger in ass. It’s not rocket science!_

And so he gets to work. With a focus he doesn’t apply to anything else, beside when he’s tinkering with his Baby’s engine, he scoops a bit of lube on his forefinger, warm it with his thumb, and goes to town.

Cas lets out a sigh when Dean touches his hole, and closes his eyes. Dean does his best, despite Sam in his direct line of vision, lens directed at Cas’s ass. He looks focused, too. Dean’s sure he’s so into the camera work he’s not even aware he’s filming his best friend’s asshole. _The big geek_.

“Yes,” Cas exhales. His head tips back, precome leaks from the tip of his cock, and Dean wants to taste it. “Slowly.”

And, _fuck_ , when Dean presses a fingertip against his rim, Cas’s dick jumps. It’s right there, in front of Dean’s face. His mouth. He can’t hold himself back. Leaning over, he takes the crown of it between his lips, and sucks.

“Ah! Dean!”

Dean chuckles, Cas’s hand on his shoulder tightens around the muscle, and, suddenly, Sam’s in his face. Well, not _Sam_ , but his camera, prompting Dean to swallow uncomfortably.

Focusing on his finger and mouth at the same time proves to be a difficult task, but when Cas whispers a broken, “Don’t stop!” Dean has to oblige.

He decides tiny kitten licks are manageable, and they have the advantage of making Cas tremble.

After about thirty seconds of it, Sam pulls away, focusing on Cas’s ass again, just in time to capture Cas pushing onto Dean’s finger. Cas’s hole seem to pop around it, swallowing it to the first knuckle.

Dean stares up at him, cock forgotten in front of him, “Okay?”

“Yes,” Cas lets out with an ecstatic smile. “Yes. Very much so.”

He starts pumping his ass up and down, slowly, biting his lips like he’s savoring the sensations. So Dean holds his finger up, and just enjoys the sight.

It’s only when Cas reaches the third knuckle, just as Dean starts to think his finger must be a bit dry, that he takes it out, quickly pouring some lube on it and on his middle finger.

Going back to it, he feels a lot more confident than he did a few minutes ago. It’s time he works at it a little. He can’t let Cas have all the fun.

Sam moved again, God knows when, and he’s not as close, now. He’s filming them so they’ll both fit in the frame, Dean thinks, so he dives his hand into his pants, squeezing his cock once, and running his knuckles on the flesh. The little bursts of pleasure course through his body, and for now they’re just enough to make him wait a little bit longer.

His fingers slide in Cas’s ass again, and this time he moves them around a little, drawing small circles with them. “Jesus Christ,” he says, almost in awe, “You’re hot!”

Cas opens an eye, lazily, and pouts at him, “I can assure you, Jesus has nothing to do with it.”

This time, it’s Sam who laughs. When Dean gives him a glance, he’s hiding his mouth behind his hand.

“Smartass,” Dean tells Cas, and pushes the second knuckles in. Cas gasps.

“Still good?”

Cas closes his eyes again, “Yes. Stop asking.”

He’s starting to sweat, abs tightening right in front of Dean’s eyes like some delicious… abs. _Or whatever_. His dick jumps again, tip almost purple, begging to be touched.

But Dean doesn’t touch it. Instead, he pumps his fingers up and down, reveling in the warmth of Cas, eyes roaming over his body looking for the smallest reaction. Cas seems to like it when he twists his fingers, when he crooks them slightly, so he does, as much as he can, while trying to keep it surprising.

Cas’s panting is like music to his ear. He couldn’t pinpoint Sam’s location even if he wanted to. He’s shaking from how much he wants Cas, from the way his insides, under his belly button, writhe pleasantly when Cas lets out tiny mewling sounds.

 _God_ , the anticipation alone is killing him. But Cas needs to be prepped, and he needs to be prepped good.

Dean doesn’t waste any time. He takes out his fingers again, lube at the ready. He coats almost his entire hand in it this time, and finds Cas’s hole again, three fingers up, just shy of Cas’s rim.

“Come get it if you wan’ it,” he teases.

Cas opens his eyes. The Look of Doom is back full force. Dean preens under it, a lopsided smile permanently glued to his face.

Slowly, Cas sinks on his fingers. There’s a spark of defiance in his eyes, and in the curve of his mouth. “What if I come be—before I can, ah!”

Dean grins even wider, pushing against the barrier of Cas’s inside, stretching his fingers as far as they’ll go now that they’re fully in.

“Before I can sit on your cock,” Cas finishes.

A bead of sweat falls down his eyes from his brow. He’s shaking. The way he phrased it, it’s not a question. So instead of an answer, Dean gives him an order, “Don’t.”

Cas tries to look smug. He only half succeeds. Dean imagines it’s hard when you have something in your ass. “Or what?”

“Or,” Dean pulls out until he’s barely inside, before slamming his fingers in. Cas makes that keening sound again. “I won’t let you fuck me next time.”

“Oh, God,” Cas breathes.

His eyes close, his head dips down, his cock jumps. “Don’t—Don’t move, or I’m gonna come.”

If eyebrows had a mind of their own, Dean’s pretty sure his own would have flown away in surprise. “You are?” And as he asks, he’s shifting a bit on his seat, and his fingers inside Cas involuntarily move.

“Fuck,” Cas lets out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, oh, fuck, I’m so—” he babbles.

And with a decisive pump of his ass, he’s coming all over Dean’s chest, ass clenching around Dean’s fingers. There’s even a bit of come that lands on Dean’s chin.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Cas whines when it’s over.

“Uh,” Dean lets out, wiping his chin.

Sam sighs, and Dean realizes he’s right behind Cas. “Cut, I guess.”

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Cas repeats, and hides his face in his hands.

Dean’s fingers are still in his ass.

“It’s fine,” Sam tries to reassure him. He keeps away, though. “We’ll just… take a breather, okay?”

Letting his weight fall on Dean’s hand--  it’s still in Cas’s ass, by the way-- Cas bops their forehead together, hands on Dean’s shoulder.

He sighs, “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“It’s fine, really,” Dean smiles.

It feels fake. But, really, _his fingers are still in Cas’s ass_ , how can he act natural in this situation?

“I’ll… I’ll go clean up,” Cas says. He pushes off Dean. The fingers slide out with a wet sound, and Dean doesn’t know what to do with his hand. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Dean answers.

He watches Cas, his majestic, naked bubble butt bouncing as he walks out. _God_. Dean stays where he is, with his hand full of lube, because if he moves, he’s not sure this whole thing won’t prove to be a very vivid wet dream.

So he sits, and he waits, willing his painful hard on to go down, and he doesn’t, absolutely doesn’t look at Sam.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“Okay,” Sam smiles. “Get naked!”

Somehow, the hour he took to empty his SD cards and set up his cameras again put him in a good mood.

Cas seems more relaxed, too. Obviously, Dean would be as well if he could’ve had a nice orgasm. But he didn’t. And now he’s nervous again. He’s also horny. So fucking horny he feels his balls are about to explode.

“Yeah, let’s do this!” He clasps his hands together to hide the anxiety bubbling up his chest.

He’s aware of Sam being there again, and, before he takes off his pants, he has to take a second to convince himself that, yes, it’ll be worth it. And, anyway, he’s pretty good at this gay sex thing. He made Cas come on his dirty talk alone, _dammit_! If that’s not amazing, then Dean doesn’t know what it is.

His sweatpants make a soft, puffy sound when they hit the floor. He’s naked underneath, and, even though the gym is warm, he wonders if the breeze he can feel on his balls is real or if it’s just his imagination.

“We’ll start with, uh,” Sam clears his throat. “Dean on his back, and then we’ll change position once Cas is done so Dean, you can, hum. You know.”

“You mean he gets to come before I do,” Dean asks, taking position on the bench again. “Why?”

Sam’s cheek are turning red. “Because you each need a… money shot. And if you come first then it’ll be more difficult for Cas.”

 _Oh. Yeah_. “Okay, got it,” he says, lying down. “God. Okay.”

Cas is settling on his knees, between Dean’s legs, hesitant. “Dean, I want to explain what happened earlier.”

“Dude,” Dean raises his head, and all he can see is his junk, exposed for everyone, and especially Sam, _goddammit_ , to see. “You don’t have to.”

“I feel like I do,” Cas says, head tilting on the side. “Please.”

Sam’s still seems to be busy with his cameras. But Dean’s not stupid, and he knows his brother. The way he’s frowning as he’s looking at his screen means he’s trying to listen in on their conversation without being caught. _The dumbass_.

“Okay,” Dean nods.

He straightens up, folds his legs under himself, so he can at least cover his dick with his hands without looking like he’s hiding anything. At least this way he can play it casual.

“I’ve been… training,” Cas starts, “because people asked me to. On my website.”

“Training?”

“Yes,” he nods. “To come without touching my cock.”

Dean’s stomach does a little flip. “Okay.”

“And I never succeeded before, but I guess, since I was caught in the moment and you were… well,” he smiles up at Dean, shyly, “you were not plastic. So it helped.”

“Uh. Great.” _Great. Great? You moron._ “I mean, I get it,” he amends. “And I think it’s cool, for what it’s worth.”

“It has its uses,” Cas agrees. “But in this case, I don’t think it was very convenient.”

“Sam didn’t mind,” Dean shrugs. “At least he emptied his memory sticks or whatever. Turns out we’d have had to stop at some point or another for it, anyway. So it’s cool.” It feels very natural taking Cas’s hand in his. He barely notices. “We’re cool.”

“Thanks, Dean.”

It’s like magic, when Cas looks at him this way. Dean can’t look away, even if it’s the millionth time they’ve done this, just staring at each other. _Christ_. He’s so whipped.

“Ready to go,” Sam asks.

And just like that, the spell is broken. Dean clears his throat, lets go of Cas’s hand, and lies back. “Ready.” His heart is beating a million miles a minute.

Sam gives him a thumb up. “Just, kiss a bit, and then go ahead.”

Dean grunts, “We’re making porn, not a friggin’ Lifetime movie!”

“Just trust me, okay,” Sam answers, annoyed.

Dean raises his hands in the air, but Sam isn’t even watching anymore.

“Right…”

“I don’t mind some kissing,” Cas whispers to him.

They don’t need more words to understand each other. Cas just bends over, and grazes Dean’s lips with his own. Dean breathes him in, licks a patch of skin at the corner of Cas’s mouth. Cas hums happily, and he parts his lips to kiss Dean properly at the same time as he drops his weight on him.

Their cocks align with a flash of pleasure, and Dean exhales into Cas’s mouth.

It’s all very lazy, and soft, and if they were lying in bed and not on a hard-as-a-rock bench, Dean really could do this all day. Forever and ever, Amen.

“Shall we get down to business,” Cas asks, before kissing along Dean’s jaw.

“Yeah,” Dean croaks, pushing his hips up to feel Cas’s hardness against his own. “Yeah.” He gasps when Cas finds the spot behind his ear. “I just don’t know where I put the lube.”

Cas lets out an honest-to-God snort, “That’s problematic.”

Laughing, Dean tries to hide his face in Cas’s neck, but Cas is laughing, too, while trying to catch Dean’s mouth again.

Sam sighs, very loudly, “Lube’s behind you, Cas.”

He’s so exasperated that Dean and Cas can’t help but giggle like a couple of school girls.

Luckily, Sam doesn’t say anything else, and lets them laugh their ass off until Cas finds the bottle of lube, finally, and drops some on his palm.

Sitting back on Dean’s thighs, he gives him a heated look before taking Dean’s dick in hand. Dean’s insides light with pleasure at the contact. Cas makes a point of going all the way down, then all the way up, slowly, thumbing at the slit as he reaches the top and igniting fireworks behind Dean’s eyelids every time he does.

They don’t speak anymore. They don’t laugh. They only stare, too caught up in the moment, in the anticipation, to care about the camera, or about Sam crouching behind Cas to get the right shot.

Nothing’s important to Dean, in this moment, nothing but Cas’s eyes on him, and the heat of his body above him, and the pulse of blood in his own aching dick as Cas takes it in hand.

He positions himself above Dean, so Dean gently lays his hands on Cas’s thighs, his thumbs working soothing circles on the skin.

Cas is breathing hard, like he’s already feeling Dean inside him. If Dean focuses, he can imagine it, too. Finally, after what seem forever, Cas’s hole is touching Dean’s dick. As cliché as it sounds, it feels like time is suspended for a split second, right before Cas starts to sink down.

When he does, the air is punched out of Dean. Cas is so tight, so hot inside, that for a moment Dean’s scared he’s hurting him. But Cas throws his head back, panting, and his dick jumps, precome leaking from the tip. Which is, Dean understands by now, a good indicator that Cas is enjoying himself.

It’s hard to focus on him, though, when sensations assault Dean from everywhere. Cas keeps sinking lower and lower like it’s never going to stop, and Dean’s almost seizing with electric bliss. A shiver runs through him, at the same time as Cas lets out a half moan. His thighs are shaking with restraint. He’s almost all the way there.

The last couple of inches he swallows in one last tiny buck of hip. The pleasure is unlike anything Dean’s ever known. He exhales, like he’s been punched in the stomach, and a wave of goosebumps runs up his arms.

“Cas,” he whispers, in awe.

They keep still, trembling, looking into each other’s eyes, and Dean suspects Cas is trying to savor this as much as he is, to commit this moment to memory before it disappears into a sweaty, horny mess.

Dean is the first to give in, “God! Cas, move!”

Canting his head, Cas’s lips lift into a defiant smile, before he pulls out almost entirely and slams his hips back on Dean’s. His balls slap against Dean’s, increasing the burst of swirling pleasure that fires up Dean’s spine.

Cas is merciful, after that. Or at least he is at first, rolling his hips in a gentle way so that Dean’s orgasm builds slowly, pleasure pooling pleasantly in his belly. There, but not urgent.

Never once does Cas looks away from him. His cheeks get red with the effort, sweat beads on his forehead, but he keeps his eyes open.

When Dean thinks he’s grounded enough, used to the sensations enough that he can hold his orgasm back for a time, he lifts his knees, feet firmly planted on the bench, and starts pumping his hips up to meet Cas half-way.

Only then do Cas’s eyelids flutter shut for a second, and a beautiful moan escapes him.

“Touch me,” he pants, “please, Dean, touch me!”

His words go straight to Dean’s dick, and the next second, Dean’s hand is on Cas’s cock. The noises that he wrings out of Cas resonate through him, as if he was feeling them in his bones.

Dammit, Dean’s not a poet, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he could write sonnets about Cas in the throes of passion.

He can’t admire the sight for long, though, because the familiar twitch of a coming orgasm ripples through his lower belly, and, he reminds himself, he needs to hold on for the camera.

So he tightens his grip on Cas’s cock, twist his wrist just right, and tries to keep up with Cas’s rhythm, all while holding back what promises to be the best orgasm of his life.

But nobody said making porn was easy.

Suddenly, Cas doubles over, one hand coming to support him on Dean’s chest, and the other clutching Dean’s own where it still lays on Cas’s thigh.

“I’m gonna come,” he says, voice so low it gives Dean a chill.

And he does with a single cry before he grows silent, only panting as his cock jumps in Dean’s hand and his ass clench around his length.

The most difficult thing for Dean in all of this is trying not to come. He bites on his lower lip so hard he can’t feel it anymore by the time Cas softens in his hand.

He keeps thumbing at the slit, playfully, until Cas whines, slapping his hand away.

Exhausted, he falls on Dean with a grunt, eyes closed. _He’s heavy, the motherfucker!_ And Dean’s still hard inside him, but somehow this is really, really comfortable.

Sam clears his throat and Dean jumps. He forgot all about him. Again.

“You want to take a break?”

Cas hums, but Dean shakes his head, “Fuck no! I need to blow my load, like, right now!”

Cas’s chuckle makes his ass bounce around Dean, and Dean hisses.

“Gimme a second,” Cas mumbles when Dean tries to push at him.

Slowly, he sits up. It’s turning into fucking torture for Dean, every little movement sending small bursts of pleasure everywhere, his orgasm, ready to snap up his spine, coiling tighter and tighter with every single one.

“Oh, God. Get off me!”

Fortunately for Dean, Cas is nice enough to wait until Dean’s cock is out of him before he laughs. “You’re almost there,” he tells Dean, faking a patronizing tone as he pats his shoulder.

“Fuck,” Dean lets out. He tries to breathe through his nose. “Sammy, are we good to go? Please say yes.”

“Yeah,” Sam answers with a lopsided smile. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I was ready last week,” Dean bursts, scrambling to his knees. “Let’s go, come on!”

“How do you want me,” Cas asks, all serene like Dean’s not about to explode.

Dean has to bite his tongue to prevent himself from moaning hearing that sentence coming out of Cas’s mouth. “Uh,” he exhales. “I don’t know. However’s comfy for you.”

Cas shrugs, “Sam?”

“Just… on your back should be fine,” Sam suggests, avoiding their eyes. “But you’ll have to keep your legs up.”

“I can do that.”

“Good.”

There’s something more important than discussing positions that Dean should be doing, his throbbing erection reminds him. “Okay, Sammy, whatever you say. Get ready because I won’t hold on for long.”

Sam groans, but doesn’t answer, and Dean impatiently grins at Cas. Cas lies on his back, knees up, ignoring Dean and instead turning to Sam, “I can wrap my legs around Dean’s neck if you’d like.”

Sam gives him an impressed look, to which Cas just answers, “Yoga.”

“Yeah,” Sam says. “That’d be… great.”

“Come oooon,” Dean groans.

“We’re ready,” Cas’s gaze lands on him again.

Dean settles between his legs, hands on each side of Cas’s face. It’s not easy, since the bench is not made for this and is rather small, but he doesn’t care.

“Do you need more lube,” Cas asks.

Dean just shakes his head.

“Good, then,” Cas smiles, and lifts his hips until his ankles are hanging on Dean’s shoulders.

God. This is hot.

“Let’s do this,” Dean breathes. With one hand, he guides his dick, and slides right back home. “Fuck. Fuck, that’s good.”

“Go for it,” Cas invites him. He strokes one of Dean’s arms, and relaxes his head, only staring at Dean from under hooded eyelids.

So Dean does. Go for it, that is. He slams his hips forward, because, unlike women Dean could’ve picked up in a bar, Cas is well built, and Dean knows he can take it. He seems to enjoy it, too, if the sounds he’s making are any indication.

Fuck, if Cas is good, then Dean can let go. Wrapping an arm around one of Cas’s knees, he bucks his hips in a violent rhythm, like he’ll die if he doesn’t.

His orgasm quickly spirals up inside him, but what really undoes him is Cas’s hand, suddenly holding his cheek, a thumb running on his lower lip.

And, _holy fucking shit_ , does Dean come hard! The tight coil of pleasure inside him snaps, cutting all of his air, ecstasy pulsing through him, following the rhythm of his cock. And Dean being the sappy fucker that he is, can’t help bending over for one last kiss, releasing the filthiest moan that ever came out of his mouth between Cas’s lips.

Pliant, Cas kisses back. His legs are still around Dean’s neck, but being folded in half doesn’t seem to bother him, judging on how enthusiastically he’s making out with Dean.

Eventually, they let go of each other. Dean’s hot all over, but he’s also very relaxed, mind buzzing with the afterglow. “That was awesome,” he murmurs.

Cas’s answer is a gentle smile. Just for him.

“Aaaaand, cut,” Sam exclaims, excited.

A pang of disappointment makes Dean’s heart skip a beat when Cas lets his legs fall away to sit up.

But it’s done. They’ve done it. They made their own porno.

Dean can’t wait to make the next one.

##   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimers: Oscar refers to the American film industry award wholly owned and given annually by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (AMPAS).
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> Lifetime Movies is wholly owned by A+E Networks, a joint venture of the Disney–ABC Television Group and a subsidiary of The Walt Disney Company and the Hearst Corporation.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean sighs again.

It’s been a week since the shoot, and he can’t help thinking about it. About Cas. About his lips. About his beautiful cock. _Goddammit_. He’s done for.

He’s so fucking in love with Cas it’s not even funny anymore. And now that he knows what it feels like to kiss him, have sex with him… well, it’s hard for Dean to fight his reflexes and not touch Cas every day.

Dean doesn’t even want to have sex with him all the time, which is how he realized it was love. He wants to hold Cas’s hand, and cuddle, and make out. And cook for him. And take showers together so he can wash his hair.

Like, seriously. If that’s not love, then he doesn’t know what it is.

But he can’t really talk about it with Cas, and he certainly can’t talk about it with Sam. So he keeps it to himself, and he suffers in silence, waiting for the next video.

Now that he thinks about it, Sam’s obsession with camera work ended being a blessing. Or maybe it’s a curse…

“ _Fuck! Fuck, that’s good_ ,” Dean hears his own voice say through the speakers of Sam’s laptop as he enters the library.

“Shit, Sam,” he grunts, walking as fast as he can in the direction of the garage, “Don’t do that in the library, Goddammit!”

“I’m done with the editing,” Sam says, distracted. “I just need to watch it one more time to make sure it’s good.”

Dean really didn’t need to hear what he sounds like when he’s about to come. And now he won’t ever be able to look at his brother again.

“Yeah, well, do that in your room!”

He makes a run for the garage.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Dean’s determined to never look at that video ever again. Not that he saw it, anyway. Making porn, yes, but watching himself fuck on screen? No, thank you. Or maybe only with Cas. But that’s another thing altogether.

But anyway, the point is, he doesn’t want to hear about this specific video, ever again.

And, obviously, judging by the way Sam’s pacing around nervously while Dean and Cas are sitting on his bed, Dean’s not about to get his wish.

“Okay,” Sam rubs his hands together. “First, don’t be mad.”

Dean’s more than unimpressed. “What did you do?”

“Nothing bad, I swear.”

“Come on. Hit us.”

Of course, Cas looks mildly interested, because it’s his default setting, but Dean is not amused. He has things to do. Namely, go watch some porn to find interesting things to do to Cas next time.

“We’re invited to the AVN Awards,” Sam says.

“The what,” Dean asks, at the same time as Cas says, “You’re kidding.”

With a sigh, Sam stops moving to face them. “The Adult Video News Awards. The Oscars of Porn, and yes,” he adds, giving Cas a somewhat apologetic look, “I’m very serious.”

Dean is too busy trying to understand what Sam’s saying to gauge Cas’s reaction. “Porn vids have Oscars? And what do you mean, invited?”

Sam shrugs, “Our video got… nominated.”

“Nominated,” Cas repeats.

He’s squinting so hard Dean wonders how he can still see. The expression on his face is two seconds away from turning into a Look of Doom.

“You’re both nominated for Best Newcomers,” Sam says, “And I,” he grins, excitement visible all over his face and in the way he’s standing, “am nominated for Best Director in the Video category!”

A long silence follows his statement.

Until Dean explodes, that is, “Dude! What the hell?!”

With a defensive pout, Sam crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Don’t get angry at me, I didn’t apply to anything!”

Then why does he look so happy, Dean wonders, when he knows this is a very bad, very dangerous thing? They can’t afford to be renowned anywhere, let alone in the porn industry! Who knows who could see them? Or what creatures?

Dean certainly doesn’t want to get killed because some nameless demon found him while jerking off to gay porn!

“Tell them thanks, but no thanks,” he says, standing up.

They can’t afford it, period. There’s nothing to talk about.

“I don’t know,” Cas says, scratching his chin. “It feels nice to be recognized for our work. It could be fun,” he adds, looking at Dean’s scandalized expression with something akin to puzzlement.

It seems to make Sam very happy, though. “I know, right? And maybe we could make some extra cash out of it?”

“I know they give packages, gifts to the nominees,” Cas muses. “At the very least I’d get new toys for my channel.”

They can’t be discussing this. “What don’t you understand when I say ‘no’,” Dean presses like they’re stupid. “We’re not going, and that’s final!”

No way he’s becoming a gay porn star. Dean Winchester is many things, but not that! All he wants is make videos in peace, so he can kiss Cas, and hold him, and fondle his balls, and taste his cock again. Is that too much to ask?

Sam throws him a smug look, “It’s two against one.”

And Cas’s shoulders lift, like he’s about to put his arms in the air in a ‘what can you do?’ gesture, except he doesn’t go all the way.

Dean just stares between them, disbelieving. “So you’re against me.”

“We’re not against anyone,” Cas sighs. “We just want to go. What if we win?”

“And it’s in Vegas,” Sam says. “Might be fun.”

Dean huffs, “We all know what happened last time I let you run around on your own in Vegas!”

Throwing him his exasperated bitch face, Sam raises an eyebrow, “I was hexed. Not my fault. And we haven’t been since. Dude,” he blows out a breath, “don’t you miss it?”

Doesn’t he? Of course he does. But that’s not the point. What was the point again?

“I don’t want to be a pornstar,” he protests.

Cas raises his eyebrows, like he’s shrugging with his eyes, “Shame.”

With that, something seem to change in the air. They’re feeling Dean’s weakness. And to prove it, Sam stomps his foot, his whole body bouncing comically like a giant balloon. “Come ooon! Dean!”

Strangely, it’s this, seeing his brother acting like a five year old that finally breaks Dean.

With a sigh, he asks, “You really wanna go?”

Sam’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head, wearing an expression that can only be described as a ‘duh’ face, “Yes!”

Dean can’t help feeling betrayed when he looks at Cas, though. He should feel the same! After all, it’s his asshole that’s going to become famous!

“You too,” Dean asks.

Cas nods, serenely, “I really do. You have no idea how many more viewers we could get if we show up.”

Sighing again would be a bit too much. Sam and Cas probably get it by now; Dean doesn’t want to go. But he’ll have to, won’t he? So there’s no use in fighting this, “Okay,” he breathes out in defeat. “Not like I have a choice, anyway.”

To his credit, Sam doesn’t ‘whoop’, or ‘ah ah’s, he just throws his arms in the air, both fists closed in victory. Cas smiles.

“It’s gonna be awesome,” Sam exclaims.

Dean hopes so. Everybody’s gonna see his dick. _God_. He hopes it’s gonna be worth it.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Dean walks up to the clerk’s desk, already uncomfortable, because he’s not used to the kind of fancy hotel they’ve been booked in, but also because he’s already been recognized three times, and even now, he still doesn’t know how to react.

“Uh, hi,” he tells the clerk, a blond lady with a flashy red suit. “We have, huh, reservations for two nights.”

She smiles up at him, and at Sam and Cas trailing behind him. “Names,” she asks with a wide, fake smile.

“Uh. Wesson, and Smith.”

With a too enthusiastic nod, she starts typing on her keyboard, so Dean turns to Cas. “I hope we won’t have to pay for the minibar,” he winks at him.

Cas just stares back blankly. To be fair to him, it wasn’t even funny, but Dean doesn’t like wealthy places, so he has to relieve the tension somehow. He’s not made for them. Give him a shitty motel room that smells like feet and only has hot water between two and three PM and he’s right at home. But this hotel? With the plants, and marble-like floors, and fancy red curtains, it’s making him feel more out of place than he did when he got abducted by faeries.

And that was something.

“Here are your keycards,” the clerk says, interrupting his thoughts as she hands him two cards. “I’ll need you to sign this form…” she slides it in his direction, “and you’ll be good to go!”

It’s not until after he signs everything without reading, took the cards, and started walking to the elevators that he realizes he only has two keys in hand.

“Uh,” he lets out, and stops, turning to the clerk’s desk. “We’re missing a key.”

“No, we aren’t,” Sam answers. And there’s a worryingly smug smile tugging at his lips. “You’re a couple,” he points between Dean and Cas, “remember?”

Dean opens his mouth to protest, but his brain catches up before he can start. That _is_ true. They marketed their videos that way. So the AVN committee or whatever didn’t even question it.

Okay, but maybe Dean could share with Sam. After all, they’re used to doing it, since they’re often taking a room at the last second, they can’t always get a room with two queens.

So—

“Gonna stop you right there,” Sam says, patting his shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking, and there’s no way I’m giving up my room. So,” he plucks the keys from Dean’s hand, “You take your own card,” he gives Dean back the one with ‘Smith’, the fake last name they chose for Cas, written on it, “And you go enjoy your king bed and your shared room.”

With that, and with a smile to Cas, he struts to the stairway. The friggin’ fitness freak.

“What the fuck just happened,” Dean says, flabbergasted.

“I promise I won’t be invasive,” Cas smiles.

Dean just has to believe him.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

So the room is fairly nice, and the first helping of the mini-fridge is complimentary, so Dean doesn’t complain too much. For now.

So far, so good.

It’s early enough in the afternoon that he doesn’t have to worry about the d-bag suit he’s going to wear later that night, and he can kick back and relax, and enjoy his bed alone for a little while.

Or so he thinks. Because as soon as he’s lying in the wonderfully comfy bed, atop the pricy but suspiciously scratchy sheets, with his eyes closed and his arms behind his head, he’s interrupted by Cas clearing his throat.

“Would you like to take a walk?”

Popping an eye open, Dean tries to convey how much he doesn’t want to move from this bed at this very moment. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Why would I be kidding?”

Dean grunts, “But we barely just got here!”

“Hm,” Cas lets out.

He stays where he is, looking at his feet, and he paints a picture so pathetic, yet so cute at the same time that Dean absolutely cannot resist it.

“Where did you wanna go?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cas sigh.

“Tell me,” Dean insists, holding himself up on his elbows.

Cas looks around the room, frowning, “It’s fine. You want to rest, I understand.”

“Come on,” Dean scolds him lightly. “Don’t drag it out, just tell me.”

Still avoiding his eyes, Cas shrugs. “I just wanted to visit the city.”

Seriously, if Dean wasn’t a grown man with a giant case of gay panic doubled with a childhood spent bathing in machoism, he would probably get up and hug Cas.

But he doesn’t. “Okay,” he says, smirking. “You ever been to Vegas?”

“Only once. But it was about three thousand years ago.”

Dean hums, “So you’ve never had a genuine Vegas Vacation before.”

He has to bite on his tongue not to add that he calls it ‘a Vegas-cation’, because he’s pretty sure all he’d get from Cas would be a glare and a sigh.

“Obviously not,” Cas finally looks at him.

He stands there, almost defying, like he’s daring Dean to laugh at him for it with only his stance.

Dean’s smile widen, “We need to catch you up, then.”

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Dean has never been so happy in his life. First, he loves Vegas, so being back is great, even if he’d never admit it to Sam. And second, watching Cas trying to navigate the city, the tourists, the costumed teenagers trying to tempt people into Casinos, is absolutely hilarious. And the hookers aren’t even out yet.

“Okay, Cas,” he calls a frightened Cas walking in front of him. “Cas!”

Cas turns around, eyes wide open in a mix of wonder and what looks like fear. “Dean. This is—”

“Awesome,” Dean exclaims, wrapping an around Cas’s shoulders, “I know!”

“I was going to say ‘overwhelming’, but, yes,” Cas answers, eyes darting around like he can’t stop looking at everything, “It does fit the initial definition of ‘awesome’.”

Dean wonders if he’d have been that impressed if he’d been an angel. With a pang of guilt, he dismisses the thought.

They’re in Vegas, for Christ’s sake! It’s time to live a little.

“We need to help you relax,” he whispers in Cas’s ear.

He doesn’t miss the shiver that runs through Cas. A flash of arousal, there and gone again, zaps through him at the sight.

“Okay,” Cas nods. “I trust you.”

And God, how can he look so earnest when answering such a ridiculous affirmation?

Dean huffs a small laugh, and squeezes his arm. “Let’s go, then.”

Cas doesn’t have the time, or the choice, to protest. Dean grabs him by the wrist, and leads him into the first, least-tacky Casino he can find.

At first, Cas is confused, almost baffled, not by the games themselves, since, as he said, “most of them are just math,” but rather by the fact people would keep spending money even when they’d been losing bags of it.

And then Dean introduces him to the beauty that is Black Jack, and Cas loses it. Dean literally has to lure him with a margarita and promises of more fancy cocktails to get him away from the table. Or any table, thinking about it.

A nice, over-the-top Vegas diner seems like a better choice of venue after that, so Dean settles for an Egyptian themed one, and buys Cas a milkshake that comes in a fake sarcophagus.

Except this particular diner serves alcoholic milkshakes, and Cas, with his newfound love of cocktails, wants a taste of one. Which, Dean is fine with, but he’s not sure Cas should indulge, since he’s human, now.

“I took part in the festivities in Sodom and Gomorrah,” Cas says, frowning so hard, Dean’s scared he’ll pop a vein in his forehead, “I think I’ll be okay having a drink or two in Las Vegas.”

And, okay, Dean would pay good money to hear this whole story, but he has an inkling, now that he’s faced with the bad version of the Look of Doom, that it’s not the time. Besides, he’s pretty sure if he waits a bit, he’ll hear about it very soon, seeing as how quickly Cas is downing his shake.

So Dean drinks his own vanilla and bourbon milkshake, and lets Cas decide where he wants to go next.

Cas hums, vaguely, say he’ll think about it, and stumbles out of his booth. By the time Dean has paid, Cas is nowhere to be seen.

That’s about when Dean starts panicking. Vegas is big, and what if Cas can’t find his way back to their hotel, how is Dean going to make it through the Award ceremony?

But before he can call Sam and start covering the streets with ‘lost’ posters, Cas reappears, with two popsicles in hand. With a goofy smile and a “Look what I found!” He hands one to Dean, and starts walking.

He looks like he has a plan, or at least knows where he’s going, so Dean follows.

It ends up turning into a ninety minute leisure walk around the city. After a while, Dean has to steer him in the direction of the hotel. They join Sam in the hall, briefly, to talk about their day, but it’s not like they have much time left before they need to go.

“What’s up with you,” Sam asks Cas when the angel walks into his personal space until their noses are almost touching, and just stares.

“You have beautiful dimples,” Cas answers.

Surprised, Sam tries to lean away, but wherever he goes Cas follows, and Sam ends up giving Dean a helpless look. “Is he drunk?”

“Just a bit tipsy,” Dean smiles with a confidence he doesn’t feel, and pulls Cas by the elbow.

Once in their room, he sends him into the shower, hoping it’ll sober him up a bit before the ceremony, but when it’s Dean’s turn to clean up, Cas takes advantage of the complimentary drinks in the minibar, sampling every single one of them.

When Dean sees the empty bottles, it’s already too late. Cas is out on the bed, snoring lightly. With a defeated sigh, he decides to let Cas rest a little. At least he got dressed before he fell asleep, which is one less problem for Dean to worry about.

Meanwhile, he puts on his black tuxedo and burgundy shirt that Sam chose for him. Styling his hair takes the rest of the time they had left. After that, all is left to do is waking Cas.

He almost gives up when Cas pulls him into bed, grunting, and tries to cuddle him to death.

 _Fuck this_ , Dean thinks. He goes to fetch Sam. This whole award thing was his idea, after all. He can deal with Cas’s drunk ass himself, so Dean can at least have a laid back evening.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

By the time they get to the ceremony, Cas has sobered up a little, and now it’s Dean’s turn to become a blushing, staggering mess.

There are cameras and journalists and so many people that his stomach seems to be trying to fly out of his esophagus. The red carpet is way too soft under Dean’s feet. It almost feels like it’s going to swallow him whole, and he’s starting to regret having to wear dress shoes because he’s pretty sure he’s going to sprain his ankle before he reaches the top of the stairs.  He’s so nervous that there’s a high probability he’s going to puke his guts out on someone at some point.  

Sam seems right at home. He smiles at everyone, walking confidently toward the entrance like he owns the place while Dean and Cas follow right behind.

Cas looks comfortable as well, and thankfully he helps Dean navigate the crowd, with a sure and grounding hand on the small of his back. But this is just the beginning, and Dean’s so not ready for the rest.

When a journalist shoves a mic in his face, Dean almost has a heart attack.

“Can we ask you some question,” she asks.

Cas nods as Dean tries to read the badge on her low-cut shirt. She seems to be part of the ceremony team, covering the event for the people watching at home.

_This fucking thing is broadcasted? Oh, fuck!_

The journalist gives her cameraman a thumb up, and takes her place next to them. “I’m here with two new-comers, Dean Wesson and Cassie Smith, but you might know them better as Hunter and Angel,” she exclaims, cheery and bright. She turns to them, “So guys. How does it feel to be here tonight?”

Dean is paralyzed, his brain coming to a stop. All he can do is look at the camera, an awkward smile frozen on his lips.

“We’re very honored,” Cas answers in his pornstar voice, low and sweet, and Dean’s dick seems to react to it instantly, “but to be honest we’re also a bit nervous.”

The journalist laughs, flaunting her breasts at Cas. “Don’t be,” she pats his shoulder, “You’re both fine! Did you see any of the other nominees’ videos? Did you prepare?”

Briefly, she tries to direct the mic at Dean, but he turns to Cas instead, and she gives up on him.

“We didn’t, actually,” Cas answers like a fucking pro. “We didn’t want to feel the pressure of the competition. But we surely plan on watching them after the ceremony.”

He winks, which seems to please the journalist.

“Can we expect a post-award video from you two?”

“I don’t know,” Cas smiles, playful. Dean almost melt on the spot. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

She laughs again, “Well, thank you so much, Angel, Hunter, and see you at the ceremony!”

She’s out of their hair as quick as she first appeared. Dean’s still frozen in place. When Cas intertwines their fingers together, it seems to wake him up, dragging him out of the pit of panic he seems to be drowning in.

“Breathe,” Cas whispers in his ear like a suggestion.

It helps a little. And it turns Dean on, a lot. _Christ._ At least it reminds him they’re not alone in the crowd. Sam should be around. Somewhere.

And, yes, there he is, a bit farther away, talking to a guy, in front of a camera, surrounded by two naked women with different porn websites logos painted on their bodies.

God. What the hell are they stepping into?

Cas doesn’t seem too phased about it, quite the contrary. He’s almost smiling, which is rare enough, and from time to time, he looks back at Dean as he drags him along the red carpet as if Dean was the reason he was here in the first place. As if it was an amazing gift.

Dean can only smile back, because he’s helpless here. Surrounded by werewolves and vamps and demons, he’s the king of the castle. But surrounded by porn stars and cameras? He’s worse than a child.

It’s unfortunate that Sam doesn’t get how scared shitless Dean is right now. As he sees them walk his way, he waves at them, and suddenly another camera is on them, and another journalist, a guy this time, is up in their faces.

“Dean Wesson and Cassie Smith, welcome to the AVN awards,” he exclaims, too peppy for Dean’s taste. “You’re the talk of the Awards, this year! How does that feel?”

Dean gives him a clueless look, “We are?”

“Of course,” the guy says, winking. “How could you not be? You’re such a cute couple! How did you decide to dive into the industry? Was it a tough decision? Or something you knew you wanted to do from the beginning?”

“Uh,” Dean answers.

“We just tried it,” Cas says, smiling reassuringly at Dean. “And I was in the cam business before we got together, so it’s not like it came out of the blue.”

“So, Dean, then, you’re the only amateur on your team,” the journalist turns to him.

Dean’s whole face starts to heat up. “I, uh. I guess I am.”

“Are you nervous?”

With a chuckle, Dean scratches the back of his head, “I think it’s obvious, yeah. But I have Cas, and Sam, here…” he gives his brother a look, “so I think I’ll be okay.”

Cas lifts their entwined hands and gives them a kiss. “We’re excited to see how it goes.”

“Speaking of Sam,” the journalist goes on, “we were just talking about the concept of your video. How did you come up with it?”

It’s a weird question, that Dean doesn’t really understand. He doesn’t think it’s that exceptional that they filmed in a gym and tried to add a little fantasy to their vid, but since he doesn’t want to look stupid, he just shrugs. “Sam is the one who came up with the idea. All we did was… act a little.”

“But only a little,” the journalist smiles. “You have a great chemistry, both on screen and in life. Did it impact your relationship in any way?”

Shit. Dean wants to leave, already. He’s really uncomfortable, staring at the cameraman and the naked girls, and all these questions about their pretend relationship are starting to make him sweat. What if he says something that Cas doesn’t agree with?

Best solution is to let Cas talk.

“We’re… much closer, now,” Cas answers, sincerely.

It’s true, so Dean nods. “It kind of brought us together.”

“And it got him out of his shell,” Cas nods toward Dean. He’s using his porn voice. _Oh God._

_Now’s not the time to get a boner._

“You could say the relationship bloomed once they got in front of a camera,” Sam winks.

Dean’s head snaps his way so fast he almost hears his vertebrae protest the movement as he glares at Sam. Sam just shrugs with a smile.

“Well, it shows,” the journalist agrees with a smile that says he finds it cute. “I won’t hold you for long, can I just ask for a kiss? For the people who don’t believe you’re an actual couple?”

“Fuck those guys,” Dean says, actually upset by the thought, even though it’s the truth.

“I’d rather you don’t,” Cas whispers, teasing, low enough that the camera can still pick up on it.

The journalist laughs, but Dean’s already tuning him out, because Cas is staring at him, and he’s bringing his face closer, and, oh yes! His lips are touching Dean’s, and they’re kissing again.

The only thing that makes them stop is Sam clearing his throat.

“Wow,” the journalist lets out, incredulously. “That was downright sinful. I would love to be a fly on the wall while you’re shooting!”

Sam laughs, clasping Dean’s shoulder way harder than strictly necessary. “See what I have to put up with everyday?”  Then, with a sunny smile, he stares straight into the camera, “Thanks, guys.”

There’s no room for protest or any other questions, so the journalist nods, and moves away. Dean doesn’t know if he should thank Sam or slap him, seeing as how much he seems to be enjoying making Dean uncomfortable. They’re moving, though. He doesn’t have time to think too much about it.

Luckily for him, they’re reaching the stairs, now. No journalist will get them here, and Dean minutely relaxes. People with AVN t-shirts lead them inside. They have their own little round table waiting for them, and there’s a bar, so they order a few drinks and a bowl of peanuts and wait.

When the ceremony begins, Dean grabs Cas’s hand and doesn’t let go.

The new-comers category is one of the first, so Dean figures, as his anxiety rockets to levels unknown to mankind, that it will at least be over soon.

He doesn’t fully realize what it means, though, not until his name is announced by the suave voice-over and his dick’s laid bare for everyone to see on the giant stage screen as an extract from their video plays out.

“Oh shit,” he whispers, and hides his face behind his hands.

“Don’t be ashamed,” Cas says, and Sam laughs.

“You won’t say that when it’s your turn,” Dean mumbles.

His own voice resonates in the room in a loud moan, and he turns a darker shade of red.

Cas scoffs. “I’ll have you know I’m very proud of my body. I have nothing to be ashamed of.” With a calculated gesture, he takes a sip of his whiskey, grimacing slightly at the taste. “And my cock is quite beautiful.”

Sam, who was just starting to drink, chokes on it.

It gets even worse when it’s Cas’s turn to be on display on the screen, riding Dean’s dick like he’s a mechanical bull riding champion. His moans ring into Dean’s ears, vibrating down to his core.

He _does_ have a beautiful cock.

“Yeah, it’s a bit awkward,” Sam states.

“No kidding,” Dean grunts, right before a realization hits him.

If he wins, he’s have to walk on stage. In front of everybody. Alone.

At that thought, he can almost feel the blood leaving his face. He can’t do it. He won’t. Fuck. But there’s no way they’ll win, right?

It makes the announcement way longer than it actually is. Dean is still holding Cas’s hand, his grip on it so tight he can’t feel his fingers anymore.

“Dean,” Cas whispers to him.

But there’s a woman on stage, and Dean’s pretty sure he’s seen her face, and possibly her tits, somewhere. She’s probably a famous porn star.

And she’s opening the envelope with the winner’s name in it. _Oh God_.

“Shhh,” he chastises Cas.

He’s not even glancing his way. He can’t look away from the stage.

“And the winner is…” the actress says, smiling.

“You’re hurting me,” Cas whispers.

It has the merit of taking Dean’s eyes away from the stage.

“My hand,” Cas insists.

Dean’s heart is beating a mile an hour, and he feels so lost and so anxious that he doesn’t get it right away.

“Dean.” Cas shakes his hand, and Dean finally lets go, at the same time as the crowd around them erupts in applause.

When Dean looks back at the screen, it’s the face of a buffy, peroxided blond guy that greets him. They lost.

Cas looks disappointed. Really, really disappointed.

Dean watches him down his drink in one go and hail a naked waitress wearing only a bowtie to get another one, and he wonders what he could do to soften the blow.

“Man,” he pats Cas’s back. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Cas shrugs Dean’s hand off his shoulder. “I’m fine.”

When he’s like this, there’s nothing Dean can do to take him out of his bad funk, so he just drops it. He’s too relieved to worry about anything for now.

The only thing left to do is just follow Cas’s lead by ordering another drink, and support Sam while he waits for this dreadful ceremony to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimers: Adult Video News Awards (AVN Awards) is wholly owned by AVN Media Network, Inc.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam just lost.

But the ceremony’s drawing to an end, thank God, and Dean’s on his fourth fancy cocktail, because Cas started sampling different drinks, and Dean thought, why not try them, too. Every single person in this room saw him pounding into Cas’s ass, so he can’t seem any gayer to anyone.

A quick look at Sam, who’s clapping for the winning director with a genuine smile on his face, and Dean’s reassured that he won’t have another person to cheer up tonight.

Which is good, because Cas is still looking as grumpy as he was when he lost, and now he’s starting to get really, really drunk. Dean’s too tired for this. _God help him_.

“Dude, you might wanna slow down with the cocktails.”

Cas gives him the stinkiest stink-eye look Dean’s ever seen on his face. “I want wha’ I do,” he snaps, before frowning at his own words.

Sharing a look with Sam, Dean tries to silently plead with him, but the rise of Sam’s eyebrows tells him he’s on his own.

“Cas,” Dean sighs, “you’re wasted.”

“Am not.”

“Dude!”

“You’re a… dude.”

“Oh my god,” Sam whispers, trying to stifle his laughter.

“Not helping,” Dean hisses at him.

Sam raises his hands in the air, pushing away from them both, as if to say, ‘Not my problem!’

Dean is too tired, and, oddly, too horny, after seeing dicks and tits all night. It could also have something to do with the way Cas has been leaning against him and fondling his hand all evening.

But anyway. He doesn’t like this one bit. He just wants this night to end. Just thinking about what he’ll have to go through sharing a bed with a drunk Cas gives him goosebumps.

Until, that is, Cas lets go of his hand, and decides to squeeze his thigh instead.

Best video has been won, and they only have one more award to go through, plus the wrap-up cocktail party so that everyone can chat with the press.

“Uh, Cas,” Dean whispers to him. Thankfully, Sam pretends he’s focused on the screen. “What are you doing?”

“I like muscles,” Cas answers in the same tone. “I like my thighs. I think they’re pretty nice.” Humming, he slides his hand up and down Dean’s thigh, from the knee up. All the way up. “I like your thighs,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.

“We’re—we’re in public,” Dean tries.

 _God_. He’s so uncomfortable. It’s not that he doesn’t want to kiss Cas, or hold him, or do all sorts of unholy things to him, but the fact is, Cas is drunk, and Dean’s a bit tipsy too, and yeah. He doesn’t need an excuse to hold himself back. Cas is his friend, and as much as Dean loves him, truly, he can’t risk their friendship for… whatever it is that is happening between them.

Not worth it.

“We’re supposed to be together,” Cas says.

Dean tries to swallow, but his throat is so dry, all he can do is cough instead. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Cas seems satisfied by that answer, and looks back at the stage. He keeps stroking Dean’s thigh.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Cas has been pretty quiet all through the cocktail party. Plus, Dean hasn’t seen him drink any more, so he counts that as a win.

Maybe this night won’t end as badly as he first thought. Maybe…

Maybe he can kiss Cas. For real.

As soon as he first thinks about it, he can’t focus on anything else. It could be such a good way of testing the water, see if Cas sort of feels the same way or not. And if he doesn’t? Dean can blame it on the alcohol. Perfect. Great idea.

He thinks about it so much, in fact, that he completely psyches himself up, and by the time they walk back to the hotel, just the two of them because Sam was having an animated discussion with other directors and Dean didn’t want to interrupt, he’s so excited he’s shaking all over.

Cas is back to holding his hand. Dean feels bold enough that he intertwines their fingers together. He feels good about it. Especially since Cas accepts it, squeezing his hand as they walk.

They’re holding hands. Dean’s smiling so much his cheeks hurt.

He’s going to do it once they’re inside. The kiss. It’ll be romantic as fuck. He’ll let Cas shower, or at least clean up a bit, and he’ll light some candles. Yes. On the balcony. So that they can kiss under the stars.

_Holy shit! It’s gonna be so great!_

He’s so pumped for it he ends up dragging Cas behind him. The angel doesn’t say anything, just follows, eyes gleaming under the city lights.

Everything is so perfect, falling into place just like Dean’s imagined it, that his heart starts to swell under the weight of his feelings. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, or maybe it’s just destiny. As much as Dean hates it, in this moment, he wouldn’t mind if Fate was the one pushing them together.

As long as there’s no cherub involved, Dean doesn’t give a fuck.

The fact that Cas isn’t talking is a relief, too. It’s strange, yes, because he usually doesn’t miss an opportunity to be a sassy bitch when it’s just the two of them, but tonight it suits Dean just fine.

If he’s honest, Dean was scared Cas would open his mouth and ruin the mood. It’s never happened before, but he never knows. Tonight is important. He can feel it in his bones. In his alcohol-soaked bones.

When they get in the hotel elevator and the doors close behind them, Dean’s heart starts dancing around his chest. He’s sixteen again, with butterflies flying around his stomach. He never thought he could feel this way again.

He’s so impatient, dammit! The elevator seems to suddenly be moving very slowly. His dick stirs in his slacks, and he pushes the palm of his hand against it, to calm it down. Because, really, now’s not the time.

He’s trying to prepare for a grand romantic gesture. There’s no time for boners. Maybe after. But not now.

Finally, they’re walking toward their room, still holding hands, and the night seems so full of promise that Dean’s about to burst.

He doesn’t dare look at Cas. He’s scared he’ll give up on the kiss if he does, if he sees even the slightest hint of a doubt in his friend’s eyes. He can’t afford it, not now. So instead, he slowly opens the door, and pulls Cas inside the room.

He’s nervous, and excited. The slight click of the door closing almost makes his jump. He knows he’ll lose his nerves soon if he doesn’t do something, so he just waves weakly toward the bathroom.

“You might wanna… freshen up. Maybe.” He wants to slap himself. “I mean, not that you stink or anything, but—”

“Dean.”

He can’t help it. When Cas says his name like that, voice curling around the single syllable like he wants to cradle Dean’s very soul in his arms, Dean has to look at him.

They hold each other’s gaze for a fraction of a second, before Dean gets distracted by Cas’s mouth. His eyes quickly stop on it, and he licks his lips, almost unconsciously.

This is it.

Dean gathers his courage, his eyes darting between Cas’s mouth and his eyes, and, slowly, he leans over. Very, very slowly.

“Cas,” he whispers, almost a question in the inflexion of his voice.

As if in slow motion, Cas’s gaze lazily travels from Dean’s eyes, to his nose, his mouth, and back to his eyes. There’s a frown creasing his brow, as if he doesn’t quite understand what Dean wants, before his eyebrows relax curving up, almost pleading.

Their mouths are almost touching. Cas’s breath tickles Dean’s lips. Dean lets out a shaky sigh. Cas’s eyes, impossibly blue, are fixed on Dean’s.

Cas grabs onto Dean’s arm with one hand, the sound drowned by Dean’s heart beating violently in his ears, and burps in his face.

“Oh,” he lets out.

And Dean just stands there, surrounded by the rank smell of alcohol and half-digested shrimp canapes that just came out of Cas’s mouth, wondering if this is real life or just a very vivid nightmare.

“Oh God,” Cas says, eyes going wild with surprise and panic.

Before Dean can think of something to do or say, Cas is sprinting for the bathroom. The sound of him hurling, puking eight hours worth of binge-drinking in one go, echoes in the room.

Dean sighs. Not at all what he expected. He’s not an asshole, though. He’s going to go in there, breathe in Cas’s vomit, and help him through it, patting his back while he empties his stomach and metaphorically hold his hair.

He just needs to take in the situation first.

He can’t believe Cas burped in his face.

 

-_-_-_-_-

 

“You feeling a little better,” Dean asks as Cas leans back against the tiles, eyes closed.

“I dunno,” Cas answers.

He lets out another small burp that turns into a groan. So Dean pats his shoulder, and pushes a strand of hair away from his forehead.

Grabbing the glass of water he prepared beforehand, he hands it to Cas. They make for a pitiful pair, the both of them, sitting on the bathroom floor in tuxes and covered in bits of puke.

With a sigh, Cas opens his eyes, and looks at Dean with so much misery that Dean can’t help but chuckle.

“You’ll be fine after a coupla’ Tylenols and a good night’s sleep.”

“I don’t think I’ll wake up again if I ever fall asleep.”

“Nah,” Dean smiles, trying to be as appeasing as possible. “I promise you it’ll be okay.”

He’s still bitter, of course. He was really pumped for that kiss, but he can’t really hold it against Cas. Everybody has their own trials with alcohol. Cas just chose an awful time to have his own.

“Thank you,” Cas breathes, falling against him, which makes Dean chuckle again. “You always look after me. Even when I…” he looks up, very serious, and makes a quotation mark gesture with his fingers, “’fuck up’.”

Dean shrugs. Cas is still drunk, so he needs to navigate this discussion carefully. “You don’t fuck up that often, Cas,” he tries, wrapping an arm around his friend. “You try things. And sometimes it doesn’t work. Perfectly normal.”

“It’s human,” Cas says.

“Exactly.”

“I hate being human.” Then, looking up at Dean, “No offense.”

Dean huffs. “It’s okay, man. I get it.”

The glass is still in his hand, so he brings it to Cas’s mouth. Cas glare at it, but finally takes it from Dean, and drinks it slowly.

“Come on,” Dean says when the glass is empty. He takes it from Cas, pushes himself off the floor and put the glass down on the marble counter.

He tries to offer Cas his hand, but Cas weakly slaps it away. “’S not worth it,” he mumbles.

“Sleep’s always worth it,” Dean assures him as he hauls him up.

“I thought I could… I really thought,” Cas starts, then lets out a breath.

Dean wonders what’s going through his head at this moment, but he’s starting to understand it has nothing to do with being drunk and dreading the hangover.

“I thought I was above it,” Cas goes on. “I thought I was… ‘the shit’.” His face splits into a disgusted expression, before he whispers, “I thought I was better than you.”

“Cas…”

“I was so under the delusion that, that humans were primitive,” he scoffs, not listening to Dean, so caught up in his feelings it’s like he can’t stop talking. “That I truly believed being one would be easy.”

Dean manages to pull him along, and, slowly, they start walking to the bed, Dean supporting most of Cas’s weight.

“Well,” Dean starts. He’s very careful with his choice of words, because who knows what an angry drunk Cas is like? He already seems to be a very sad drunk, so Dean doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. “I guess, from your point of view, it’s a pretty reasonable perspective.”

Cas huffs.

Dean goes on before Cas can go on another rant, “And that’s how you’ve been conditioned. You have nothing to feel bad about.”

“I don’t feel bad ‘bout it,” Cas answers, gruffly.

Thankfully, they’re reaching the bed. Dean delicately drops Cas on it and prevents him from lying down right away.

“You can’t lay down just yet,” he gently says when Cas whines in protest. “We need to get you out of these clothes.”

If Dean can manage to make him swallow a bit of toothpaste, that’d be great, too. But he’s not sure he’ll succeed.

“Sex is good,” Cas blurts out of nowhere.

Since Dean’s currently unbuttoning his shirt, he wonders if he should pretend he didn’t hear.

“It’s the only human thing that makes me feel things,” Cas keeps going. “All I ever felt before was… sadness, and depression. And sadness.”

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean comments.

Because what else can he say to that? He peels Cas shirt off him, as efficiently as possible.

“Don’t be. It makes me feel worse.”

“Uh. Okay.”

There’s nothing Dean can say, really, and he’s painfully aware of how not equipped he is for this. He’s the champion of repression. He doesn’t know how to deal with people spewing their feelings at him. Especially when it comes to Cas. Because Cas is important. Dean doesn’t want to fuck up with him.

“Pants,” is the only thing that comes out of his mouth, which has the merit of taking Cas’s mind away from whatever pit of despair he fell into for just a few seconds.

He insists on taking off his pants himself. It takes a solid ten minutes, and Dean would’ve loved to clean up a bit during this time, but Cas won’t let him out of his sight. And he won’t let him help either. So Dean changes into underwear and a t-shirt right there, figuring that Cas is too drunk to remember any of this anyway, and he’s seen his dick plenty of times, so what’s one more, really?

When they’re both ready for bed, Cas already half-asleep, sitting cross-legged on the bed in his underwear, Dean tucks him in. He makes sure there’s a glass of water on the bedside table near Cas, he finds a plastic basin in the bathroom --these four stars hotels have everything-- and once he’s sure Cas is settled under the cover, only then does he turn off the lights and climb in next to his friend.

But apparently, Cas is not ready to sleep just yet.

“You’re the only one who makes me feel happy,” he whispers, barely audible. “You. And Sam.”

Dean doesn’t know what to answer. Instead, he lies on his back, frozen in place, afraid he’ll accidently take advantage of Cas or whatever.

“Can you hold me while we sleep?”

Dean swallows. He licks his lips. This, he likes. Can he allow himself this, just for one night? Even if Cas won’t remember anything come morning? He’s so tired, and disappointed by the events of the evening that he thinks, _yes_. He fucking deserves it. He’ll probably regret it, but he wants it so bad, he can’t resist.

“Yeah,” he finally breathes out. “Yeah, Cas. O’course.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he has an armful of angel. Cas snuggles close, wrapping his arms around him, his head on Dean’s chest. He’s warm. His breath stinks. But Dean’s never felt so right in a long, long while.

His heart flutters inside his chest, and he let his arms fall in place around Cas’s.

“G’night, Cas,” he whispers.

A snore answers him. Typical. With a smile, he closes his eyes.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“So,” Sam cheerfully says the next morning, while they’re having breakfast in the hotel’s dining room. Cas stayed in bed, of course. “You and Cas.”

Dean makes sure to glare at him while he chews on his piece of toast. “Me’n’Cas, wha’?”

“You know,” Sam insists, in a wink-wink, nudge-nudge way. “Did you…?”

Embarrassed, Dean scoffs. “Yeah, we did. You were there, remember?”

Why should he care is beyond Dean’s understanding, and he can’t figure out why today, of all days, Sam would choose to tease him like this. This is so unlike him, Dean almost wants to sniff his breath to see if he’s still drunk.

“Come on, Dean,” Sam whines. “Throw me a bone, here!”

Yeah, it’s really strange. Usually, Sam makes sure he stays as far away from Dean’s sex life as he can. This whole thing with Cas has been strange from the beginning, anyway.

“Dean,” Sam huffs, when he realizes Dean’s not going to answer. “Please tell me I didn’t do all this for nothing.”

This makes Dean stop chewing. “What d’you mean?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “You really think I would willingly come close to your dick or what you do with it for any reason other than making you two idiots realize you’re in love with each other?”

Here comes the blush, blood rushing to Dean’s face in one great wave of embarrassment, “We’re not—” he starts, before closing his trap under the force of Sam’s bitchface. “He’s not in love with me.”

“Dude. I have eyes.”

Which implies that Dean hasn’t. Or whatever. He huffs. Hope is blooming inside his chest, but he squashes it down. Sam’s right about him about one time out of three, and Dean’s his brother. There’s no way he can read Cas this well, not when Dean has trouble doing it even in the rare cases where they’re together and Cas loses the stick up his ass for a few hours.

“Seriously,” Sam sighs. “You didn’t even try… I don’t know. Talking to him?”

Not answering is probably what gives Dean away, but he can find nothing to say. It’s a theme, apparently. He can’t answer anybody. What’s with all the touchy-feely crap all of a sudden, anyway?

And now Sam’s excited. Great.

“Oh! You did!”

With a pained sigh, Dean shrugs. “I wanted to.”

“And?”

Here we go. Dean will have to tell Sam, won’t he? _Jesus_. “And he…” He runs a hand on his face. “He almost threw up on me, alright? And I couldn’t do it!”

Sam blinks. “He what?”

“He…” Shaking his head, Dean leans over the table so he won’t have to say it too loudly. “He belched in my face,” he whispers. “I just… I was going for a kiss and he burped in my mouth.”

Sam bursts out laughing. Not surprising, really, but it hurts no less.

Dean backs away, trying not to show how upset he is. Objectively, It _is_ funny. He was just so hopeful the night before that, even now, thinking about it stings. A lot.

“Oh, God,” Sam finally stops laughing, wiping a tear off his eye. “I’m sorry. Must have been… hum. Awkward.”

He’s still stifling his laughter. Dean waves him off. “He was so drunk I don’t think he remembers,” he shrugs.

Sam’s still smiling like he can’t stop. He shakes his head. “So I went to LA for you…” he says, hands drawing together as if in prayer. He’s trying to look serious, but there’s still a smile tugging at his lips. Even Dean can feel the corner of his mouth try to lift up. “I filmed you having sex,” Sam goes on. “I bought a camera… just so you could bail out at the first little set back?”

“You call that a set back,” Dean asks, suddenly outraged. “I was ready to…”

And yeah, he can’t even talk about talking about his feelings. He’s aware it’s a problem for him. A problem he’s been trying to solve. He made a lot of effort. And Cas had to go and puke all over them.

“I’m not…” he says, inhaling to find some courage. “I was trying to test the water, okay?” He’s avoiding looking at Sam directly, but he can see his brother nodding in his peripheral vision. “And I was thinking, a kiss would’ve been, uh, a nice way to do that.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, nodding again. He’s still smiling, but differently this time, in a way that tells Dean he finds it cute. “But maybe last night wasn’t the greatest time…”

“You think I don’t know that?”

Sam raising his hands in the air in a placatory gesture. “All I’m trying to say is, don’t give up just yet.”

“I know,” Dean sighs.

Maybe Sam’s right. Maybe Dean’s being a giant coward about all of this. He _is_ being a coward. But it’s mostly because, for once, he has a lot to lose. He loves Cas. Has loved him for a long while, if he really thinks about it. And as much as he’d like to kid himself into thinking it’s just lust, it’s just his ‘little brain’ guiding him, it’s too late, now. There’s no going back. He fucking loves Cas.

God, he loves him so much he’s scared Cas will throw his feeling right back at his face if he ever tells him about them, and then what will he do? He doesn’t want things to change between them, if it’s to make them worse. But there’s no way of changing things for the better if he doesn’t say something. He feels stuck.

“I’m scared,” he admits, sheepishly. And Sam finally seems to understand how serious this is for Dean. “I’m so fucking scared.”

Leaning back, Sam runs a hand through his hair. “Don’t be. I’ve seen the way Cas looks at you.”

“Did you, now?”

Sam nods, and there’s a passionate twinkle in his eyes that wasn’t there a second ago. “I’ve been here all these years, same as you. I’m telling you, he feels the same.”

It’s all nice and good, Dean thinks, but he doesn’t really believe it. “Then why hasn’t he said anything?”

“Dean,” Sam eyes him, sternly. “You’re always boasting about picking up waitresses, and not being gay, and not being into ‘girly things’. Why do you think he hasn’t told you anything?”

 _Great_. Because Dean really needs to feel guilty, to top it all off. “I had sex with him!”

“And you bitched about it because it was ‘gay’,” Sam sighs. “Dude. Seriously. I know you’re insecure because I’ve known you my whole life. But Cas doesn’t.”

There’s so many things Dean could say to deny it, but he knows there’s no use. Talking about himself makes him uncomfortable, anyway, so instead of engaging Sam, he bites into another piece of toast, and gives him brother a tired look.

“Okay. Enough feelings for today.”

“Dean. Seriously.”

Sam is trying to be reassuring, and Dean’s grateful for it. He kind of needs it right now. He’s too tired to keep everything bottled up, like he usually does. “I know, Sammy.”

“You’ll talk to him?”

With a sigh, Dean looks down at his coffee. “I guess I’ll have to if I don’t wanna grow an ulcer before the end of the year.”

He can see the second Sam’s face relaxes with relief. Shaking his head, Sam grabs his coffee, “Yeah. You can’t let my sacrifice be in vain. ‘Cause, you know, I can never unsee what I saw.” Then, almost convincingly serious, “I went to live in LA for two weeks for you.”

“You liked it,” Dean says, eyeing him above the rim of his cup. “Don’t lie.”

Sam harrumph. “Whatever.”

The bickering and light teasing feels much more natural now that Dean’s got his feelings off his chest. He keeps at it for a little while, glad to find things have gotten back to normal between him and his brother. He didn’t even realize he’d been tense and weird all these days.

He did show his brother his dick, though. Can’t blame him for being a little strange for a few days after that.

When they’re both full and the discussion grows dull, Sam suggests a walk around the city. Dean declines. He’s really not in the right headspace for it. Sam seems to understand, and takes off on his own. Dean’s left alone with his thoughts.

He needs it. The time alone. He’s about to pull off one of the most dangerous moves of his life.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this chapter hasn't been edited at the time of posting. My schedule has been super hectic this last week, and I got overwhelmed T,T 
> 
> I do hope that my numerous typos won't bother you too much. As soon as the chapter is edited (probably tomorrow), this note will disappear. 
> 
> Thank you, and enjoy the ending :)

Dean actually really does want to talk to Cas. But he’s scared that if he’s too impatient, if he pushes the discussion with Cas when the time isn’t right, he’ll end up fucking everything up.

It’s reassuring, at least, that Sam agrees with him. He feels validated. He’ll never tell Sam, but, usually, he likes to know that his brother agrees with him when he really wants to do something.

It’s the right thing to do. Open his heart, tell Cas how he feels. It’s going to be difficult, he knows it, because he can’t shove aside thirty-seven years of repression with a snap of his fingers, of course, but he feels ready. As ready as he’ll ever be.

Only question is, is Cas?

Because he’s still sleeping off his hangover, and if Dean remembers correctly, the first few times are downright hellish. There’s a good chance Cas won’t be up to anything today.

On the other hand, they’re leaving tomorrow morning, and this hotel is fairly nice. As a neutral place to pour his heart out, this one is far from the worst. And if things go well, then what’s better than a nice, fancy hotel room to start a relationship?

It’s decided, then. Dean doesn’t know what he’s going to say, but he’s ready. He’s also apprehensive, but after eight years of going through shit with Cas, he thinks he owes it to him to grow a pair and finally declare his love.

If Cas doesn’t feel the same, then Dean will still have the satisfaction of having said something. He won’t have any regrets.

All he has to do is go wake Cas up, and do it.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

It was hard enough to convince the staff to let him bring up a breakfast tray into his room –because apparently, “I’m going to woo my best friend,” is not a proper excuse to not use room service-- but now that he’s standing in front of said room, it’s even harder to get on with it and step in.

He’s doubting everything now that’s he’s here. Even the seven dollar rose he bought from the souvenir shop in the lobby suddenly seems super lame. Shouldn’t he have bought a whole bunch?

_Come on, Winchester. It’s okay. It’s not important._

Slowly, he pushes the door open. The shower’s on, and the room is empty. Discreetly, he pads to the little balcony, puts his tray down on the plastic table, and arranges everything so that it’ll look more or less fancy.

Satisfied, he steps back, heart beating like crazy inside his chest.

Now all he has to do is wait, but finding out where and how is way more complicated than he thought it would be. In the end, he decides to sit on the bed, after he hears the shower go off.

Cas stumbles out, in his underwear, hair wet and going in all directions. He stares at Dean, confused.

“I need to talk to you,” Dean says.

He sounds way more serene than he feels.

“Okay,” Cas sighs, resigned. “But make it quick, I feel like I’m dying.”

Dean stands. “I brought you breakfast,” he offers to soften the frown on Cas’s brow.

It works. Cas perks up at that, looking around, so Dean goes for the balcony. His throat’s too tight to speak. Cas follows, curious, until he sees the pot of coffee. He zeroes in on it then and seems to forget about everything else.

Dean sits, slowly, and waits for an opening. The rose sits there, bright red, ridiculously visible in the middle of the white coffee set and plates, taunting Dean. He wants to reach for it and throw it out the balcony before Cas can see it.

Unfortunately, once he got a cup’s worth of coffee in him, Cas is fully awake. Dean recognizes the second Cas sees it by how high his eyebrows climb up.

He takes it, cautiously, and rolls it between his fingers. “What’s this?”

“Uh,” Dean scratches the beginning of beard on his chin. “That’s what I want to talk about.” And Cas looks up at that. He’s still a bit green around the edges. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Cas answers, distracted. “Dean… what—”

“I love you.”

Time seems to stop for a moment, and Dean finds himself holding his breath, staring at Cas who’s staring back with the look of a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh,” he just says, very calmly.

And Dean can feel the verbal diarrhea trying to spew out of his mouth. “I was planning on giving you a heartfelt speech and everything,” he simply says. He can’t look away from Cas, scrutinizing his face for every little clue he can find. “But I guess, that’s all I need to say. I, huh. I love you, Cas.”

Still frozen in place, with his rose in hand, Cas keeps staring. The surprised expression on his face doesn’t melt away, and Dean grows increasingly uncomfortable.

“Say something.”

Cas eyelashes flutter as he finally looks away. Slowly, he puts the rose down on the table in front of him, and keeps his eyes fixed on it.

“I just don’t know…” he croaks, before clearing his throat. Dean winces, “where to start.”

Fucking great. He has a _list_ of reasons to reject Dean. _Awesome_. There’s like a giant ball of anxiety and sadness forming in Dean’s throat, so he can’t protest. He can’t even leave to avoid hearing what Cas is about to say. He’s glued to his chair, as if someone tied him there, and all he can do is wait for the Pain Train to come and run him over.

“When I first met you,” Cas starts, carefully. “I didn’t think someone as insignificant could have such an impact on me.”

He pauses. Dean, for once in his life, doesn’t want to interrupt. Might as well get it over with as fast as possible.

Cas shakes his head, and a little smile tugs at his lips. “After all, what’s a human life for an angel? You were peculiar, yes, so I was curious, but I never could’ve fathomed…” he stops. Looks up. “Dean, I didn’t know. I didn’t know until the first time I fell, until I became truly human, how much you meant to me.”

Dean straightens up at that, trying to smother the hope rising inside him. Cas’s smile won’t let him.

“I do love you, as well,” he says in a sigh, and it’s like someone just lit Dean’s heart on fire. “It’s why I’m human, now. I had a choice, and I chose you. Because from the moment I first laid hands on you, I was free. I was free to choose.” He shrugs, “So I chose to let myself fall for you. In every sense of the word.”

His words are mind-blowing, spine tingling words, and soon Dean can feel tears trying to well up in his eyes. He’s not strong enough to fight them this time.

“Cas,” he breathes, running a hand on his mouth.

Cas cants his head on the side, “I hope you’re crying because you’re happy,” he playfully says, “or else I’d feel really awkward.”

“Yes,” Dean lets out in a wet laugh. “Yeah, I’m… I’m so happy, Cas. You have no idea.”

“I might have an inkling,” Cas smiles, which prompts another laugh from Dean.

Shaking his head, Dean looks down. “I’m a bit jealous, though,” he says before looking back at Cas. “I wish I could’ve come up with a nice speech like yours. Instead I just blurted it out.”

“I can assure you, it was just as efficient as a long speech. If not more.”

They fall silent, smiling quietly to each other.

Dean did it. He opened his heart and nothing bad happened. Cas loves him. He’s so happy he feels like he could fly.

After a few seconds, Cas tilts his head, eyeing Dean with an almost predatory gaze.

“Can I kiss you?”

Dean’s heart does a little flip inside his chest, “Yeah. Sure.”

Cas is up as soon as the words leave his mouth, and he takes his time approaching with a smirk on his face. Leaning over Dean, he lifts a leg over Dean’s lap so he’s sitting cow-boy style on him, and brings his face close to Dean’s until their noses are almost touching.

“I know you can’t promise anything,” he breathes against Dean’s lips, “but can you at least tell me that from now on, I’ll be able to do this until we’re too old for it?”

Dean chuckles. “You can do this whenever and forever. And there’s no way I’ll ever be too old for this!”

He closes the distance between them. His stomach fills with butterflies, and he can’t help the little laugh coming out of his throat.

He feels so, so happy. He never thought anybody could be this happy. He doesn’t deserve it.

“Dean,” Cas grumbles against his mouth. “Are you having self-deprecating thoughts? Please stop.” He leans back, giving Dean a stern look. “Nothing bad’s going to happen, you deserve this, karma doesn’t exist, please enjoy the moment.”

Dean blinks at him. “How do you—”

“You’re getting very tense all of a sudden.”

“Uh.” Dean huffs a little embarrassed laugh. “Sorry.” Stealing another kiss, he hums. Cas tastes like coffee and toothpaste. “Maybe you wanna, you know… keep my mind busy with something else.”

He nods toward the bed.

Cas chuckles, “It’s not that I don’t want to. But,” he sighs, “I feel awful.”

“Alright.”

“Maybe after a little nap.”

He’s so cute like this, with the mid-day sun falling sideway on his face, highlighting his cheekbones and tinting his cheeks, that Dean can’t resist. Besides, he’s not a jerk, he knows how being hungover feels.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Of course not,” Cas smiles, and bends over to kiss him some more. “Come on.”

He peels away from Dean, keeping their hands linked.

With an incredulous smile, because he can’t believe this is really happening, Dean lets Cas pull him toward the bed.

 

-_-_-_-_-

 

“You said you fell. For me,” Dean whispers.

They’re lying above the covers, face to face, in nothing but their underwear, and they’ve been kissing and stroking each other’s skin for a few minutes. They closed the electric blinds. Not all the way, but just enough so that the room will feel cozy.

It’s quiet.

“You don’t have to feel responsible,” Cas answers, cupping his cheek. “I weighed the pros and cons. You were a big perk, but it’s not all on you.” He smiles, confident. “I chose this. For me.”

It’s hard to wrap his mind around it, and to believe it, because Dean’s used to carrying every single thing that happens in his life on his shoulders, and this one feels like it’s all on him. But he trusts Cas. Cas never lies, not even when it’d be convenient. Well, except for that one time where he kind of went off the rails and started working with Crowley, but it’s in the past. Now, Cas knows better.

So Dean makes himself believe him. Because he knows that his issues get in the way most of the time. This time, he can’t let them walk all over his new-found relationship.

“Okay.”

Satisfied, Cas nods, and meets him halfway for a rewarding kiss.

 

-_-_-_-_-

 

Cas yawns.

“You should rest,” Dean says.

He runs a hand through Cas’s hair. He can’t get enough of touching him all over. They’ve been dozing off for about an hour, but it looks like Cas wants to talk again.

“I’m fine,” he pouts. “I want to ask you something.”

hIs fingers skim over the skin of Dean’s chest, almost suggestive, but not quite yet.

“Shoot,” Dean smiles.

Bringing his hand behind his pillow, Cas scoots closer to Dean. “So we’re together, now. Correct?”

Happiness blooms inside Dean at the words. “Yes,” he says, proudly.

“So what does that make us?”

Dean huffs. “I don’t know. Partners?”

Cas frowns. “We’re not cow-boys, Dean.”

He looks very serious, but there’s the ghost of a smile on his lips. Dean’s not stupid.

“You trying to get something out of me, Cas?”

Cas’s mouth twitches. “You know I am.”

Staring, Dean refuses to give in. He thinks he has a pretty good idea of what Cas wants. But it’s just… weird. He’s not sure he’s ready to hear _it_ come out of his mouth just yet.

“Say it,” Cas orders. “Say we’re…” he drags the last syllable, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Dean sighs. “Boyfriends. Okay?”

“Say the full sentence, Dean.”

“Seriously,” Dean groans.

“Come on. Say it.”

“Why?”

“Because it’d make me happy.”

Closing his eyes, Dean scoffs. Cas knows him. Which means he knows exactly which button to push to make Dean yield.

“We’re boyfriends,” he lets out, opening his eyes again. Cas is smiling brightly, now. “I’m your boyfriend. You’re my boyfriend. We’re boyfriends. Happy?”

“Very,” Cas half-laughs.

The way his nose scrunches up is so endearing that Dean has to kiss it.

“Right,” he grunts again. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“What would my boyfriend say,” Cas intones in Dean’s ear, and Dean shivers. “If I said I wanted to fuck him?”

 _God_. Cas is lying on him, and they’ve been making out and rutting against each other like a couple of teenagers, and Dean has no idea what time is it and how long they’ve been lying in this bed.

Soon, they’ll have to call room service. But not even his stomach could distract Dean from the weight of Cas above him and the very insistent erection probing his thigh.

“I, huh,” Dean breathes. “I think your boyfriend would like that idea. Very much.” He blushes.

And he’s very nervous all of a sudden.

“It can wait a few weeks if you’re anxious,” Cas murmurs, kissing his collarbone. “I’ve waited for you since the moment I was created. I can wait a few more days.”

The sappy fucker.

For real, Cas really has a way with words. Embarrassed, Dean ducks his head, hiding his face in Cas’s hair. “Fuck, Cas… the shit you say sometimes…”

“It’s true,” Cas answers, forcing their eyes to meet. “And I’ve had a few years to develop my vocabulary. But I’m sure you could find some ‘shit’ to tell me as well.”

Laughing, Dean rubs Cas’s back. “Yeah. Probably. I’d need Sam’s help, though.”

“Stop it,” Cas shakes his head. “You read a lot, and you’re very clever. Stop undermining yourself.”

Dean huffs. “Or what? You’ll spank me?”

Raising an eyebrow, Cas pretends to think about it. “I might. Don’t tempt me.”

He could be serious. He probably is, judging by the way his hand is sliding down Dean’s back to squeeze his ass.

“Uh, Cas—”

“So,” Cas interrupts. “Who’s going to fuck whom today?”

“You—” Dean chokes on his saliva. _God_. His _boyfriend_ is so fucking hot. “Did you just use your porn voice on me?”

Cas pecks him on the mouth, a malicious spark dancing in his eyes. “Is it working?”

“Hm.” Dean kisses back, trying to pry Cas’s mouth open with his tongue until Cas complies. “I guess it does.”

“Great,” Cas whispers, before diving in again, aiming for Dean’s mouth.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“Ah, fuck,” Dean breathes. “Fuck, yes! Yes…”

He’s an incoherent mess, lying on his belly while Cas slides insidiously in and out of him, slow and long pushes of hips making Dean delirious with pleasure.

He never thought it would be that good. It’s just a dick going into his ass, who knew it could feel this way?

Writhing under Cas, he can do nothing but hang on to the mattress and let Cas ruin him. Pleasure is pooling slowly inside Dean, growing with every slide of flesh from Cas.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he can’t stop panting.

He’s almost there. So close, and yet, even with the drag of his cock against the sheets, it’s not enough.

“Cas,” he whines, “Please… ah!”

“Please what,” Cas whispers in his ear.

He’s short of breath and he sounds completely wrecked. It almost finishes to undo Dean.

“Please, t—touch me!”

Humming against his clammy skin, Cas snaps his hips forward. “You want your _boyfriend_ to touch you?”

Dean chokes on a laugh. He strains to turn his head to see Cas’s face. “Dude, ah! You, you have a fetish.”

Cas’s answer is a raised eyebrow and another push of hips. “Say it,” he orders.

Dean’s still laughing, but he tries his best, “I want my, ah! My, my boyfriend to touch me! Please,” he pants. “Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyf—fuck!”

Finally, Cas’s hand is on his dick. Holy fucking shit, he’s going to come!

“Fuck, Cas! Fuck, fuck! I love you so much! Oh God!”

Cas laughs, filthy, voice broken by pleasure. His laugh resonates inside Dean down to his toes, and he comes with a broken moan. Cas follows soon after, chasing his pleasure with broad strokes of hips. Dean sees stars, and as he lays there under Cas, he almost wants to go at it again.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Cas is lying on Dean’s chest, and Dean’s stroking his back, slowly. His ass is still tingling with a pleasant ache. The sweat on their skin has dried, and they’re just lying there in silence. Dean’s contemplating all that happened today, wondering how long this quiet happiness he feels will last. He’s hoping forever.

His train of thoughts is interrupted by his stomach rumbling loudly.

He hums, thoughtful. “Think we should get down, find something to eat, maybe let Sammy know we’re alive?”

Cas huffs a little laugh. “Yes. And give him the good news.”

“I think he’s had time to guess.”

Cas makes an interrogating noise.

“He pushed me when I told him I wanted to talk to you,” Dean sighs. “Said I should do it today.”

“Hm…” Cas lets out. He pauses for a second, before sighing. “I found it strange that he’s been the one insisting on making the video in the first place,” he muses. “I think Sam had this planned from the beginning.”

Dean huffs a laugh, “You’re probably right.”

He can’t even find it in himself to be mad about it. For once, he’s actually glad Sammy got involved. It got him right where he needed to be. In Cas’s arms.

“Your brother is very wise.”

“That he is,” Dean agrees.

The room falls silent again. _Christ_. Dean could very well fall asleep, but his stomach won’t let him be.

“I’m disappointed,” Cas adds, off-handedly. “I was looking forward to surprising him.”

Dean pushes him away gently and sits up. “Maybe for the next big thing.”

“You mean marriage?”

It stops Dean on his way to get off the bed. The ache in his ass seems to protest the sitting position he finds himself in. “Uh.”

“I’m not saying we should get married,” Cas says, quietly. He drops a kiss on Dean’s shoulder. “Besides,” he strokes his sides, “We’re more or less already ‘angel married’, as you’d put it.”

Craning his neck, Dean looks at Cas behind him. “What?”

Cas nods. “When I remade your body after Hell, I kind of… messed up.” He looks down, eyes darting toward Dean. “A bit of my Grace fused with your soul, and a bit of your soul fused with my Grace. It bound us together.” He shrugs, “Which is how angels bound their existence together.”

“O…kay.”

It’s not like Dean didn’t know that they have a special connection. A ‘profound bound’ as Cas called it. But to call it _marriage_ … uh. Dean has to get used to the whole same sex thing first.

Cas keeps staring intently at him. “Are you angry?”

“No,” Dean shakes his head. “I’m just, huh, surprised.” With a shrug, he turns around completely, settling on his knees before taking Cas’s hands in his. “I mean, it’s certainly not worse than waking with a hungover and finding out you got drunk-hitched the night before.”

Sagely, Cas nods. “That is true. Although I would love to get impulse-married some day,” he muses. “I’ve always been drawn to Elvis impersonators.”

Dean laughs, his mouth landing on Cas’s. He doesn’t even think about it. Cas is like a giant Dean-magnet. “Maybe next year.”

“We could renew our vows every year,” Cas says. “With a different Elvis each time. Then we’d open a blog to rank them.”

Dean snorts. “You’re a dork.”

“Just think about it. We’d have a great success I’m sure.”

“Shut up,” Dean says in a laugh, pushing Cas’s face away.

Cas purses his lips, and Dean’s stomach chooses this moment to make the most ridiculous noise ever.

Dean sighs, “A’ight. Let’s get cleaned up.” Cas is already running a hand on his thigh. “No funny business,” he warns. “Just a shower. I’m texting Sam.”

“Sure,” Cas purrs.

The big liar.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

A nice shower and a soapy mutual handjob later, they manage to join a smug Sam in the lobby. They’re late, obviously, but Sam doesn’t seem to mind.

The evening goes great overall. Cas gets to surprise Sam with the news of their angel-marriage, and they find a nice restaurant, at Sam’s insistence that they need to celebrate. The giant dork even hugs them, almost jumping around like a child because he’s so excited for them.

He gets drunk, too, to make up for the night before, and Dean and Cas end up carrying him to his room after dinner.

As they retreat to their own room, Cas gets frisky again. As much as Dean likes sex, though, he knows they have time. He _wants_ to take his time. He calms his _boyfriend_ down a little, and they tumble into the unmade bed together, clothes still on, to spend a little time making out and mapping each other’s body.

Tees and pants get discarded, still without urgency and without a word. It’s probably been an hour since they’ve been laying in bed, when Cas hums.

“I’m going to miss the webcam business,” he sighs, thoughtful.

Dean doesn’t want to know why he was thinking about that while sucking on Dean’s nipples. He’s too surprised to ask. Instead, he cants his head. “Why? You gonna stop?”

Cas stops his ministrations, a look of utter confusion on his face. “I have to.”

“Uh. Why?”

Cas frowns, “Because we’re together?”

It’s logical, and of course Cas would feel like he has to quit. But the thing is, it makes him so happy. Dean’s never seen him as relax and in control as when he’s in front of his audience. It never occurred to him to ask Cas to stop.

“I you don’t wanna, you don’t have to.”

A beat passes, during which Cas’s gaze drift away to a random spot behind Dean.

Slowly, a smile spreads on his lips. “You really mean that.”

“Yeah. Of course.” Dean rubs Cas’s arm. “If it makes you happy. You’re not cheating, you’re not touching anybody else, so…”

“Beside you,” Cas says.

“Beside me, yeah,” Dean chuckles. “I mean, I could still join you sometimes. If you want.”

“I’d love that.”

And he looks sincere, but a bit unsure. Like he can’t believe it, or maybe…

“You do like it, right?” Dean asks.

“I do,” Cas nods. “It’s… it makes me feel powerful, somehow.”

“Then, there,” Dean says. He drops a small kiss on the tip of Cas’s nose. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

The look Cas gives him looks a bit too much like awe for Dean’s comfort.

“Dean…” Cas huffs. “You’re…”

Dean laughs again. “Are you speechless? Did I finally find something to shut you up?”

Cas shakes his head, faking an offended look. “I was going to say that you’re perfect but I take it back. You’re an ass.”

“Thanks. I try.”

With a snort, Cas lets his body fall on Dean’s. Dropping little kisses on Dean’s chest, he starts his way down again where he left off, taking his sweet time. Dean lets him, for once. Sam would say he doesn’t let people take care of him enough, and he knows it’s somewhat true.

Cas has always been there for him, though. And he wants to let him be there for him again, and again, and again, until the end of time. It’s a strange feeling. A good feeling.

With a moan as Cas fastens his mouth around his nipple, Dean’s thoughts chatter. His brain turns off, and he lets his nerve endings take over. Cas knows his body, he’s said it more than once. He’s proving it now.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“I’m going to miss this place,” Sam muses, wistfully, as he looks at the hotel one last time.

“We’ll come back next year,” Cas says.

It’s not a question. And Sam accepts that with a pleased smile, before folding himself in half to fit in the passenger seat of the car.

Dean will miss this place, too. It’s expensive, but he’s thinking, with all the cash Cas makes with his webcam business, they’ll be able to afford it next year. And the year after that. And the year after that. He’s liking that One Elvis a Year idea more and more.

“Dean?”

Dean turns to Cas. “yeah, yeah. You sure you don’t wanna ride shotgun?”

Cas shakes his head. “It’s way too early for me to be playing co-pilot. I want to nap. At least until we reach Kansas.”

Dean chuckles, and when Cas smiles at him, his heart does a little somersault. He can’t believe he gets to have this. Forever. His head is still full of all the things they did yesterday. He gets to be this happy until he dies. It’s still hard to believe, but for Cas’s sake, he quickly dismisses the doubts trying to creep up the back of his brain.

“Guys,” Sam whines. “Come on! We’ll get stuck in traffic if we don’t leave now!”

With an adorable frown, Cas rolls his eyes before entering the car. Dean gives the hotel one last look. God, does he love Vegas!

“Let’s get going, then,” he says, taking his place behind the wheel.

As they leave the city, under the rising sun, Dean can’t help but wonder at how lucky he is. He’s going to be marveling at it for years.

And to think it all started with a little hand job between friends.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, don't hesitate to tell me what you think! 
> 
>  
> 
> Copyright Disclaimers: All characters in this piece of transformative work are the property of Warner Bros. Television, CW Network LLC, Wonderland Sound and Vision, and Eric Kripke. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is realized, as the author is using the Supernatural Universe according to Section 107 of the US Copyright Clause on 'Fair Use'. 


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